Safe Mode
by Vivian Street
Summary: Time freezes.  Kirk and Spock are the only ones unaffected.  But when time resumes, how will the crew react to their new-found friendship?
1. In Which The Captain Discovers

AN: So! This is completely unbeta'd, and I own (and make) absolutely no money as a result of this silly fic. Leave a comment and tell me what you did and didn't like, por favor. Now, on with the story!

/AN

In Which The Captain Discovers That He Is No Longer Alone

Kirk had the distinct impression that he was sleeping in. Which was rather odd, as the last time he'd been allowed to wake up on his own was more than a year ago. This thought propelled him into wakefulness. Frantically, he looked at the display next to his bed. 2:43. That made absolutely no sense. He felt rested, yet according to his clock he'd only been asleep for a bit over two and a half hours. Or else twenty-six and a half hours, but the former seemed slightly more likely.

He sighed. He didn't feel sleepy at all. Some back corner of his mind commented that Bones was probably still awake. He tried to comm sickbay. The comm wasn't working.

The clues came together in his head, and he suddenly realized why this feeling of complete and unyielding wakefulness was familiar.

Playing it safe, he tried turning on the sink, poking his finger with a knife, and yanking out the wires that fed the lights (he'd taken to sleeping with the lights on at 20% since the last red alert had propelled him out of bed and into the pointy end of his desk). No water, no blood, and the lights were still on (albeit infuriatingly dim). Sighing, he donned a uniform and made his way to the bridge.

XXXXXX

As he'd suspected, every person he encountered along the way was frozen in place. It may have been about ten years since he'd last experienced this phenomenon, but he remembered the eerie quiet and the glassy expressions well enough.

First order of business was to check the bridge. There were two very good reasons for this. One, perhaps the Enterprise had picked up some sort of radiation or anomaly that would explain the situation. Two, failing an explanation, he needed to check that the ship would not be in any danger when they came out of this stasis. Kirk knew from experience that this could last any amount of subjective time (it was absolutely impossible to quantitatively or qualitatively measure time in this place; the Earth did not rotate, clocks did not run, candles did not burn, and he never got hungry or thirsty or tired. Just bored. Very bored).

So he knew that, if this thing lasted a relatively long period, he might be in no state (or position) to deal with any problems that cropped up immediately upon time resuming its progression. Better to check on it now, and formulate any plans he might need, than to wait.

As the universe had frozen during gamma shift, none of Kirk's usual command crew were present on the bridge. Leisurely, he wandered from station to station, checking whatever readouts were present on the screens when time stopped. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. Kirk could feel the maddening sense of boredom threatening crash over him. With an effort, he drew himself back from the brink and decided to explore the ship. Perhaps he'd find something nonessential that he could take apart and reassemble. Barring that, something essential but not currently in use.

Walking down the halls, he gave in to the desire to sing. The silence was awful and pervasive, and even at the tender age of five he'd been smart enough to realize that making noise while in this strange twilight was the only way to stay sane.

He was unapologetically off tune as he belted a half remembered song through the dim corridors. He'd learned it from a drinking buddy in Starfleet, Dave, who had been lucky enough to be assigned to the Enterprise during the Narada incident, but unlucky enough to have been on Deck 8 during the confrontation above Vulcan. He was one of many who'd graduated posthumously.

"And he sang as he watched and waited 'till his billy boiled—" Kirk ground out tunelessly, until he was interrupted by something that sounded suspiciously like another human being.

"Captain?" Came the question again, and Kirk stopped cold in his tracks. Frantically, he grabbed at his communicator and checked the time. 2:43.

"Captain?" Came the question again, closer. Kirk stared at the communicator, willing the time to change and prove that the world was running again. Still it said 2:43. Just as he admitted to himself that yes, time was still stuck, the speaker caught up to him.

"Spock?" He asked slowly.

"Captain." This time it was not a question. "I must admit that I am pleasantly surprised to find that I am not the only one experiencing this phenomenon."

"You do not seem..." Kirk searched for a word while he searched his first officer's face for any minute emotional tells, "…phased by this situation."

Spock shifted slightly. "I have experienced this before."

Kirk blinked. "So've I, actually."

They looked at each other, unsure of where to take the conversation next. Kirk broke the silence.

"Do you play chess? Please say you do."

Spock performed his trademark eyebrow lift. "I do."

Was there a hint of amusement in his tone? Kirk decided that if there was, it probably just meant that Spock was finding his CO's characteristic non-sequiturs to be as illogical as usual.

"Follow me." Kirk said, waving for Spock to follow. "Chess should help pass the time. Well, not the time, but whatever it is we have here in great and smothering abundance. I've always wished for someone else to talk to during these…freezes. Otherwise, I pick up the awful habit of talking to myself. One time, the longest (I think) that I ever had to sit through, I got so used to hearing only my own voice that I freaked out when everything unfroze. I became downright antisocial, and nobody could figure out why. And it took me a good three months to kick the urge to soliloquize on every single thought that entered my head. Speaking of soliloquies, I guess I haven't really kicked the habit because I'm having a really hard time shutting up and please tell me you're still following me, Spock." A hint of panic had crept into his voice.

"I am." Spock confirmed, and when Kirk glanced back to look at him he saw that his first officer had slightly risen both eyebrows giving his face a strangely comforting expression, considering the lack of effort he'd apparently put into making it.

"Good. And, we're here." Kirk said, stopping outside his quarters.

"Excuse me, Captain, but how would you propose we enter? None of the doors are working, and there are no maintenance hatches terminating in your quarters."

Kirk smiled a tight little smile, and wedged his fingers in a slight irregularity between the door and the wall. After exerting a fair amount of pressure, the door began to slide open.

"That is a highly unorthodox modification." Spock chastised.

"Yeah well, a couple weeks into our mission I had a nightmare that the universe froze while I was in my room, and I became trapped there for the rest of eternity because I couldn't get the fucking door open. I was so traumatized by the thought that I refused to sleep in any rooms that I couldn't get out of without using completely manual means until Scotty came up with this modification." He gave Spock a 'Yes, I know I'm illogical, get over it' look before entering his rooms.

"On the contrary Captain, from my experiences with these situations, I think that that is a completely valid concern." His voice was as monotone as usual, but Kirk smiled anyway.

Not bothering to muscle the door shut behind him, Kirk entered his room and advanced on the chess set he had stowed under his bed. Once he'd retrieved it, he grabbed his desk chair and began dragging it out into the hall. At Spock's inquiring glance, Kirk explained, "It's too dim in there. I'll drag my nightstand out too; we can use that as a table."

Once the board was set up satisfactorily and they both were comfortably seated, Kirk picked up the kings in separate hands and asked, "Black or white?"

XXXXXX

Sparring was illogical given that, in this bizarre stasis, one could not develop new muscle memories. Kirk also pointed out that it was illogical to stand in the corridor and bang his head against the wall, but that was exactly what Spock had found him doing after he'd 'brutally shot down' Kirk's sparring suggestion.

So the half-Vulcan relented.

Injuries, adrenalin, and muscle fatigue were all foreign concepts in this stasis that Kirk had resignedly begun to call 'safe mode.' However, once Spock became used to the idea that he would not be able to hurt his captain, the matches became looser, more zen-like. There was no urgency to their strikes and parries, and Spock allowed his true strength to show through. This resulted in Kirk doing some spectacular midair acrobatics. After one such toss where he'd failed to land on his feet, Kirk looked up at Spock and asked, "What's the highest thing you've ever jumped off of in safe mode?"

XXXXXX

Spock's answer: none.

Kirk's answer: "A cliff."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

Kirk shrugged.

"Might I enquire as to why you would feel it necessary?" he prodded.

Kirk frowned and waved his hands a bit in an effort to define the indefinable. "I was trying to run away from home. So I was walking down the road and I heard a car in the distance. I moved into the corn on the side of the road to hide, but suddenly I couldn't hear it anymore. I listened, and realized that I couldn't hear anything besides my own breathing. That's when I knew that everything'd stopped again. This was great news; I could get even further away from home, and I didn't need food or a place to sleep. So I kept walking. I came across an abandoned quarry and decided that I wanted to explore it. Hell, even if I hadn't been in safe mode, I doubt that would have stopped me. But I was, and I'd discovered…maybe…a year before that I wouldn't go splat if I jumped off of stuff. So I did." He shrugged, as if to suggest that the story wasn't very interesting but at least the telling had passed the not-time.

"Fascinating." Spock said.

Kirk stared at him for a moment, and then decided that, if nothing else was forthcoming, he'd go find something more interesting to do.

Spock stopped him from leaving with a hand on his arm.

"Tell me about that experience." He suggested.

"Huh?" came the eloquent reply.

"To put it more bluntly: what was it like to jump off of a cliff?" the eyebrow was raised in challenge.

Kirk's eyes unfocused as he stared at the wall behind Spock's head. The silence stretched.

"Terrifyingly unterrifying."

The look Spock sent him demanded clarification.

"I have a fear of heights, now. Not a phobia, though." He paused, a sour smile flitting across his face. "Ever since, I haven't been able to shake the impression that, on impact, I'll be perfectly fine. Not even have the breath knocked out of me. I look down from some height, and I think, 'Wouldn't it be fun to throw myself off this roof a couple times?' and I'm completely serious. I'm terrified of heights because I can't seem to convince myself that they're dangerous."

"I, too, have experience with the illogical impressions that this state can leave us with." Spock admitted. Kirk looked at him with interest.

"I was young, no older than four years old. I had not mastered self control yet. I became very bored, and I decided to see how long I could hold my breath for." Kirk straightened a bit, looking interested. "As we do not actually need to breathe here, I trained myself to resist the urge. I did not breathe for the rest of the freeze. And I did not resume breathing even after the freeze had ended. I simply did not feel the need to."

Kirk's eyes widened. "But—"

Spock cut him off with a motion of his hand. "Fortunately, I was on the street when I collapsed, and I was rushed to the hospital. It took an illogical amount of time to relearn the necessity of breathing." He finished, sounding disgusted with himself.

They sat in silence for a moment, during which Kirk slumped down on himself in thought. Abruptly he sat up again, an excited light in his eyes. "That's how you did it! Omicron 3! You were the only one that didn't inhale the gas. You passed out from lack of oxygen, but that was easier to treat than the rest of us who'd breathed in the gas. I knew it wasn't just some 'superior Vulcan control.' Vulcans can't not-breathe to death any more than humans can." He looked triumphant.

"In this case, you are correct Captain. In that chaotic environment I would not have been able to summon the control necessary to withstand my natural biological impulses, had I possessed any. However, there have been reports of a few Vulcans who have, for whatever reason, voluntarily ceased respiration and expired as a result."

"Oh." Said Kirk, staring down his entwined fingers in his lap.

XXXXXX

"Hey Spock," Kirk said, sitting up abruptly from where he'd been lying on his bed reading a book on astrophysics.

"Yes, Captain?" replied Spock, glancing at Kirk from where he was seated a few feet away.

"Call me Jim."

"No."

"Yes!" Kirk insisted.

"Captain, we both have experienced how persistent habits picked up in Stasis can be. I do not think it wise to refer to you by your first name, as the evidence indicates the tendency will be difficult to eradicate when time resumes." He said it in his usual logical monotone.

"Who says it's something you'll have to 'eradicate'?" Kirk challenged.

"It would be unprofessional to refer to you as anything less formal than 'captain.'"

"Bones calls me Jim."

"I do not see how the inclusion of Doctor McCoy in your argument is meant to strengthen it. He is inherently unprofessional." Was Kirk imagining it, of was there a smirk hovering around the edges of his first officer's mouth?

"And yet, that does not interfere with the performance of his duties. Bones makes a good doctor, admit it."

"Captain, I am reluctant to classify any actions Doctor McCoy has taken in the carrying out of his duties as being inherently 'good'." Ok, the bastard was definitely smirking. On the inside. But it was a start.

"You know what I mean! Um…ok. Sufficient, then. Sufficient? That seems cold. He's patched us both up a number of times in the past year. And he cares, despite what he says. If that's not good, I don't know what is. And Spock?" Spock has gone back to examining his book while the argument was taking place. At the change in Kirk's tone, he looked up. "I know a distraction when I see it."

He then attempted to blind his companion with his most brilliant grin.

Spock appeared unaffected.

"Was that all you required, Captain?" He asked, innocently putting extra emphasis on the title.

Kirk groaned in frustration. "Jim. And no, actually. This whole conversation has been a digression from my original purpose." He blinked at himself. "Speaking of habits picked up in Stasis, I'm sorry, but I sincerely hope that I do not sound like you for the rest of my life."

"I consider it a marked improvement to your usual method of communication, Captain. Also, would this be another digression?" Spock had to be enjoying this conversation, Kirk decided. Or, whatever Vulcans did that was analogous to enjoyment. Since when was his first officer this playful?

"Yes, yes, another digression. Damn. What was I going to ask you, anyway?" Kirk furrowed his brow dramatically, hoping to elicit another snarky comment from his companion. He was not disappointed.

"I do not think I would be incorrect in pointing out that, having forgotten the original query that had prompted you to initiate this conversation with me, the entire discussion had been rendered pointless."

"I've not forgotten! Merely misplaced. And I do not think I would be incorrect in pointing out that any actions undertaken in this place are inherently pointless, inasmuch as they do nothing but stave off boredom." Spock inclined his head slightly to concede his point, and Kirk resisted the urge to do an entirely illogical victory dance.

And then he got up and did one anyway.

He glanced at Spock partway through the dance, and he decided that any embarrassment he suffered was totally worth it to see the mirth bubbling in his officer's eyes.

XXXXXX

They had decided (well, Kirk had suggested and Spock had actually conceded that it was a logical use of not-time) to get to know the Enterprise intimately. There were several immensely practical reasons for this (Kirk explained). One, it was impossible to move about the ship through normal means during Stasis because the lifts and automatic doors didn't work. So they were going to have to get used to crawling through Jeffries tubes anyway. Second, this was good knowledge to have even when the ship resumed working properly. Lastly, it staved off boredom. Spock's eyebrow had risen at this, but he had not voiced any contradictions.

Kirk had become used to explaining the reasoning behind his actions to Spock. It had started as a not-very-serious persuasive technique ("I'll sit here and bang my head against the wall if you don't spar with me") but had since evolved into something more. Sometimes Spock would interrupt him in mid explanation, and the resultant discussion of Kirk's logic, Spock's logic, and logic in general was never uninteresting. Even if the half-Vulcan did not take serious interest in the logical implications of Kirk's arguments, the looks of amusement and occasional surprised respect that flashed across his face were reason enough.

So they were in the Jeffries tubes. Together. Kirk had the irrational (and unvoiced) fear that he'd never see Spock again if they went separate ways in the hundreds of miles of tubing that made up the Enterprise's ventricle system.

Spock insisted that they take the nonfunctioning communicators with them. His logic ran that, if they managed to get stuck or hopelessly lost, at least the crew would be able to find them when time unfroze. It made sense, and was exactly the sort of thing Kirk would not have thought of on his own. He said as much, and Spock shot him an unreadable look.

XXXXXX

"Hey Spock." Kirk said. They had made it to one of the cargo bays. Spock had informed him that it was cargo bay five, and Kirk saw no reason to doubt him.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Call me Jim." Kirk grinned at the momentary look of confusion that flashed across Spock's face as he was hit head-first with a wave of déjà vu.

"I believe we have already had this conversation, Captain. It would be illogical to have it again, as the outcome is unlikely to change." The words were stiff, but Kirk could tell that Spock didn't really mind.

"Guess what? No, don't give me that look. You remember that conversation? Of course you do. Well, I've remembered what I wanted to ask you." Kirk smiled, waiting for a response involving some sort of snarky congratulations. Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

"You always know what time it is. Do you have any sense of time, here?"

A minute crease formed between upswept eyebrows. "In fact, I do not. I find it mildly disconcerting, but understandable." Kirk's expression begged him to elaborate. "My sense of time is a result of an awareness of the movements of the universe." At the captain's skeptical look, he continued. "Not the entire universe, but its contents. If I am on a planet, I am cognizant of its path through space. Even starships have developed internal rhythms due to the patterns and emotions of their occupants. There is none of that, here."

"Fascinating." Kirk remarked with a smirk.

XXXXXX

They were in the Jeffries tubes again when Kirk was hit with a debilitating wave of exhaustion. "Spock—"

The name was barely out of his mouth before his first officer piped up, "It would seem that time has resumed its natural course."

_No shit_ thought Kirk, but he wasn't about to take his sudden bad mood out on Spock. "Do you know the quickest way to get out of here? I think I've just been woken in the middle of an REM cycle." He tried to stifle a yawn.

"I believe this direction holds the speediest path to egress." Spock pointed, and Kirk tried to follow. After a bit of crawling he began to wake up a bit, but his head still felt stuffed with something warm and heavy.

His communicator beeped.

He fumbled with it and managed to hit the appropriate button. "Kirk here."

"Captain, is everything alright?" Yeoman Rand sounded worried.

"I believe so." Kirk said cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

"I went to drop off some reports to your quarters, Captain, and I found some of your furniture…" she paused a beat to search for an appropriate word, "…arranged in the corridor."

Kirk hit his head with the bottom of the communicator, cursing himself for his stupidity. "Um, yeah. We—I mean, Spock, Commander Spock and I—we were, umm…." Captain Mode did not want to engage, and his brain seemed in need of a reboot. He was saved when Commander Spock plucked the communicator from his hand.

"Yeoman Rand? Spock here. The Captain was curious about some noises he was hearing that appeared to be coming from the ventilation shafts around his room. We had to move the furniture to take more precise readings, and we are currently in the Jeffries tubes investigating. We will be back to the Captain's quarters in approximately 9.72 minutes. Spock out."

Kirk gently nudged Spock's shoulder with his forehead in gratitude for the help, then gestured that they should continue moving.


	2. In Which The Doctor Is Suspicious

AN: Ok, so people (rightfully) have questions, and I'll try to answer them here.

-Insomniac Rand and her PADDS: The way I see it, the ship never really sleeps. So while it was 3am as far as Kirk (who's on Alpha shift) is concerned, for Rand (on Gamma) it was the middle of the day. It seemed logical that there'd be a drop box/mail box type thing for people to put reports in as the need takes them. It could be on the bridge, but Kirk doesn't strike me as the type to get much work done when there're other people around that he can talk to.

-Safe Mode: I've got explanations planned, but I don't think they're going to make it into the story anytime soon. Guess you'll just have to stick around!

-Loosey-goosey Spock: Six23 pointed out that Spock's a bit all over the place. Sorry! Part of it might be that I don't have a very good handle on the character. Another part is probably due to that fact that I've been gobbling TOS episodes recently, and now Prime and Nu are both floating around my head. If anyone's got any suggestions for improvement, don't hesitate to tell me!

-Kirk's knife: I'm not quite sure whether he has a logical reason for possessing a knife on a starship, but it seemed like the sort of thing he'd have around for away missions (actually, it might have helped if I'd told you that, in my mind, it was a Swiss army knife).

Reviews/comments/critiques are win, and readers in general are win^2. Sorry about the long AN, and on with the story!

/AN

In Which The Doctor Is Suspicious

Bones was waiting for them outside of Kirk's quarters.

"What the hell, Jim? I get a call from your Yeoman asking why all your furniture's in the hallway, and I thought, ok, maybe he's taken it into his mind to repaint his quarters, or something. I don't pretend to know what'd goin' on inside your mind. Then I get here, and I see some chairs arranged around a chess set like you've decided to have a nice little Victorian tea party in the hall. And the bed's blocking the whole corridor! What were you doing, trying to build a barricade?" Halfway through the tirade, Bones whipped out his tricorder and began to scan his friend while Spock looked at the placement of the furniture with new interest.

"Doctor, would I be correct in my assumption that a, as you term it, 'tea party,' should, by necessity, involve tea in some way?" Spock had an utterly innocent expression on his face, which McCoy apparently found fault with because Spock found himself on the receiving end of the tricorder's scanner.

"I thought you were concerned for the Captain's mental state. Why are you scanning me?"

"Gee, thanks Spock." Kirk said with a smile. Spock's eyes returned it. McCoy looked at the two of them, then came to a decision.

"Medbay. Both of you. No complaints."

XXXXXX

"Hey Spock?"

"Yes, Captain?"

Kirk sniggered.

McCoy huffed as he readjusted the biobed Spock was reluctantly reclining on. "Who are you, and what have you done with the real Jim and Spock?" He asked.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Kirk asked grouchily. He was feeling sleepy again.

"Exactly what I said, Jim! I saw you not much more than three hours ago! You complained about how the hobgoblin refused to spend any of his off duty hours with you. He wouldn't even eat lunch with you! And now I find out that you were crawling around the Jeffries tubes together, and back there in the corridor you were engaging in, for lack of a better term, eye sex!"

Jim sputtered. Spock raised an eyebrow that was calculated to, knowing him, render 99.7% of all recipients unconscious on impact. McCoy remained unaffected.

"I admit that I do not know the exact meaning on the term 'eye sex'," he said with apparent distaste, "but I was certainly not engaging in it."

"You most certainly were! And that brings me back to my point: what the hell's happened?" McCoy leveled a piercing gaze at Kirk, judging that he'd be the easier one to crack.

"Uh, nothing's happened, Bones. We're fine. We're—" here he was cut off by a yawn "—ok , so I'm actually really tired, but I'll go to sleep as soon as Spock helps me move my bed back into my quarters."

"Uhhuh," the doctor said slowly. "And why is it Spock's responsibility to help you clean up that damned illogical mess?"

Kirk and Spock exchanged glances. This almost set McCoy off again, but the first officer started speaking before the doctor was able to find the words he needed to express just how wrong everything was.

"Because, Doctor McCoy, I was the one who assisted him in moving it."

McCoy looked at Kirk.

"It's true, Bones! We…we've been spending a lot more time together than I led you to believe. I guess." He amended.

"I'm going to be keeping my eye on you two." McCoy growled as Kirk impatiently used Spock's shoulder to steer him out of sickbay.

XXXXXX

Kirk was understandably twitchy as he led the way back to his room. Spock, as expected, was not. After offering a chagrined smile to the crewmembers currently trying to negotiate their way around the bed blocking most of the hallway, they maneuvered the furniture back into the captain's quarters in silence. They had gotten so used to being together that Spock did not wait for a verbal invitation before taking a seat. Kirk claimed the bed with a yawn.

"I realize you require rest, Captain. Should this discussion be postponed?" Spock asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Do you require rest, Spock?" Kirk asked, purposely parroting his first officer.

"Not at this time. Captain." Kirk winced. The emphasis Spock had put on his title was meant as reminder that this was yet another habit which should not be allowed to continue. Upon seeing Kirk's expression of remorse, however, Spock lightened his expression.

"Shift starts at 0800." Kirk muttered to himself. "Ok. I'm going to sleep for the next two hours. Could you prepare a briefing on everything that's going on at the moment? All the stuff I should have in my head because it only happened last shift?" He was embarrassed about asking Spock to do this for him, but he knew that he'd be sure to miss something and that it'd come off as negligence or lack of organization.

"Certainly. It is nothing less than the first officer's job to keep the Captain abreast of current events. However, I would suggest that you devote 1.5 additional hours to sleep. If your mind is not properly rested, you will have even greater trouble behaving as though nothing has happened." Kirk mentally translated; _Of course I don't mind, Jim. It is my job to keep you from dribbling on yourself in public. But if you don't get more sleep, you'll keep eyesexing me on the bridge, and I don't want to give the doctor an excuse to drag us back down to medbay_. He blinked sleepily at himself. Where the hell had that last bit come from?

Spock must have seen the momentary look of confusion which crossed Kirk's face, because he reiterated, "Set your alarm for 0700, Captain. If you are not fully briefed by the time your shift begins, we can convene in the conference room. Is this satisfactory?"

"Yes, Mother." Kirk said lightly. Recognizing Spock's expression, he amended, "I know you're not my mother. It's a figure of speech. See you in a few hours, Commander." Before his companion could respond, and without bothering to change his clothes, he stuck a pillow over his face to block out the light and promptly fell asleep.

XXXXXX

McCoy watched their interactions like a hawk. Before Kirk and Spock had spent time together in Stasis, the doctor had been reluctant to leave his sickbay in the hands of anyone but himself. Now he'd take any excuse he could find to be present on the bridge during Alpha shift. His increased scrutiny (or perhaps his big mouth) cued the rest of the bridge crew into the fact that there might be something worth watching.

And to Kirk and Spock's annoyance, there was.

They couldn't not interact, and when interacting, they couldn't not give the impression that they'd gotten to know each other much better than they had any right to. In self defense, they began to eat dinner and converse in the privacy of the captain's quarters, which did wonders for gossip but had the decided advantage of not giving Kirk and Spock the feeling that they were residing in a giant fish bowl.

It was only natural that their discussions turned to the very phenomenon which had brought them together. Spock suggested a few areas of study which might be worth perusing, and….

XXXXXX

"What've I done to you?" Came the aggrieved voice of McCoy as he set down his salad and claimed a seat opposite Kirk in the mess. Kirk was eating alone because Spock had to oversee an experiment in one of the labs.

"Huh?" was the ineloquent reply.

"What did I do to you, to have you avoiding my company like the plague?" McCoy peered at him, his food forgotten on the table, in much the same way he'd peer right before he decided that Kirk was injured and in need of a few hyposprays.

"I haven't been avoiding you, Bones." Kirk looked sincerely confused.

"Oh really now? Couple days ago, I couldn't get rid of you! You're visiting me when you're on duty to complain about paperwork. You're visiting me off duty to drink and watch those ancient holovids you like so much. You're comming me to entertain you when you can't sleep, when you have a nightmare—no, shut up, I know you never told me about them but I roomed with you for two years, Jim! Damnit! I've barely gotten a glimpse of you since that morning you decided to rearrange your furniture and then explore the Jeffries tubes with that green-blooded hobgoblin! So tell me, Jim. Why have I fallen out of your oh-so-fickle favor? Why's the Vulcan your new bff?" McCoy ranted, spearing Kirk with his gaze.

"I, I'm sorry…I'd forgotten." Jim muttered, wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights.

"You'd forgotten that I'm your friend? Jim, let me repeat, what the hell!" The tricorder was off his belt and scanning Kirk almost before he'd started speaking.

"Bones, Bones, I'm fine. No head trauma, see?" Kirk said, alarmed at his friend's reaction.

"Yeah, well, there can be other causes, other things that take more than a tricorder to find. Was it something that pointy-eared bastard did? I may not like him, but I didn't think he'd do anything to your mind…."

"No, of course not! Spock hasn't done anything!" McCoy did not look convinced.

"Uhm, ok." Kirk said slowly, toying with his half-finished lunch. "Let me see your comm."

"What for?"

"Just give it to me!"

"Fine!" McCoy said forcefully, ripping the comm off of his belt and thunking it down on the table in front of his captain. Kirk picked it up and messed around with a few settings.

"There," he said, handing it back to the doctor. "For the next week you'll have captain's privileges with the security camera footage. Find the bit where something happens to me, and I'll come to sickbay with you."

"Jim. Why are you doing this?" He looked more confused and worried than angry, now.

"Just find it. You won't believe me otherwise." Kirk collected his plate and left the table.

XXXXXX

It took approximately four shift rotations for McCoy to show up at Kirk's door with a murderous expression on his face. Kirk knew that the expression meant that McCoy was more confused, not less, by what he'd seen in the security footage. It also meant that he knew the only evidence of foul play he had didn't add up, but it wasn't about to stop him.

In short, the doctor was in a bloody stubborn mood.

Kirk sighed at McCoy's image in the small viewscreen next to his door, and called "Come."

McCoy entered. The door swished shut. He pointedly took the seat that was the farthest away from the chess set that was still set up on Kirk's former nightstand.

"Jim." He said slowly, an artificial calm in his voice. "Have you been tampering with the security footage?"

"No Bones, I have not." He answered his friend evenly.

"Has Spock been tampering?"

"No, he has not."

McCoy's lips thinned. "You gotta help me here, kid. I don't see why you're making a game out of this. Whatever happened, you can tell me. I can help you find a way out of whatever you're mixed up in. You just need to trust me, Jim."

Kirk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "You have to understand. This is something that's been happening to me for as long as I can remember. I'm used to it; it's almost normal. At the same time, I've never told anyone about it. I've always thought that…I've never met another person who goes through the same thing I do. Before this most recent time, I wouldn't have even considered telling you what I'm about to, because the thought's always been lurking around that maybe I'm just very, very crazy."

"You're not crazy, Kid. That's what psych evaluations are for." McCoy smiled gently.

"Hah, you don't think I'm smart enough to fake my way through those? Don't give me that look. Anyway, there's this thing that happens. It's sort of…a state of being. The world freezes. I'm the only thing that's alive and moving. And even I'm not really alive. I don't get hungry or tired. I can't even injure myself. Electronics don't work, I think because just about any electronic has a sense of time. And in this state, time's stopped. The ship doesn't move, the Earth doesn't turn, nothing. No breeze, no hot, no cold, no sound except what I make myself. Nothing."

McCoy's eyebrows had drawn together in consternation. "I don't understand, Jim. Is this a dream? Some sort of messed-up Zen thing?"

"No it's not. It's real. If it were a dream, I wouldn't've been able to read the entire works of Shakespeare. And trust me, that's the only time I've voluntarily picked up Shakespeare. I can't describe what it's like. At all. I have no control over when it happens. One time I was sitting in school and, in the blink of an eye, everyone froze. It happened a number of times when I was younger, different places, different times, different dates. And apparently, it can happen in space, too."

"You're saying that this…thing…is why you've been acting so weird?"

"Yep. What did you see when you looked at the security footage?"

"I thought I'd look at the corridor where your quarters are. Maybe see what happened to get you to move your furniture around." Kirk nodded. "Except…one second the hall was empty, and the next it wasn't." McCoy peered suspiciously at him. "Wait, you said that Spock helped you…."

"He helped me move the stuff into the hall in the first place, yup. That's what's changed. I've found someone else who doesn't stay frozen."

"But…but why? Why move your furniture around? And how would any of this make you forget that I'm your friend?"

"You misunderstood. I didn't forget you're my friend. I'd only forgotten that I spent so much time with you. You know what the one driving force is? When everything's frozen, I mean? Boredom, Bones. You're lonely and so very bored. And there's no way to measure time there, no change of state or feeling. It feels like forever. Forever with no goals or drives or companionship. Nothing to feel, nothing to do." McCoy's eyes widened at the despair he heard in his friend's voice.

"Jim…." He breathed, walking over to his friend and clasping his shoulder.

"But it's fine now." Kirk offered him a small but sincere smile. "It's not lonely anymore. That's why Spock and I have been so inseparable. We spent the whole freeze together. We moved my furniture into the hall because the lights in my quarters were stuck at 20%, and that wasn't enough light to play chess by."

The doctor laughed. "You and Spock, chess? Really?"

"Among other things. I think, in the beginning at least, he was just doing it to humor me. I'd bug him and complain about how utterly bored I was, and he'd tell me that what I wanted to do was illogical, and I'd say that resigning yourself to boredom is more illogical than anything, and then he'd say something snarky about human mental capabilities. But after a while I could tell he didn't really mean it, and he'd always say yes in the end. You really have no idea how much time we spent together. And…we've gotten to know each other really well." Kirk finished, realizing how much an understatement that was.

"And the Jeffries tubes?"

"Really, Bones. Chess and bickering can only keep us occupied for so long."

McCoy snorted. "Coulda fooled me."

Silence fell, and it was both awkward and not, all at the same time. The doctor sighed. "Kid, I'm not sure what to tell you. I'm not sure I can say I believe you, but at the same time I'm feel pretty sure that you're telling the truth as far as you see it. Remember that time—I think we'd been on the Enterprise just short of a month—and you were refusing to sleep in your quarters so I broke the booze out? We got drunk, but you were much further gone than I was. And you kept talking about quiet and loneliness and how terrified you were that your door would stop working and you'd be stuck in your room forever. You made me put on some music, any music, and whenever there was silence during track changes you'd poke me to make sure I was still alive.

"What I'm saying is, I know these things you're telling me do have some truth because I've seen their effects on you. But kid? I'm going to have to think about what you've told me." He reached out and casually ruffled his friend's hair. Kirk made an annoyed sound and tried to pat it back down. "You know I'm going to have to ask Spock about this, right? It'd be great if you could make sure he'll talk to me."

Kirk chewed on his lip. "I can't make any promises, but I'll write you a note."

McCoy rolled his eyes as Kirk hunted for a piece of paper and an old fashioned pen. "I'll never understand your fascination with stuff that's older than even your great-grandfather."

Kirk looked up at him with an odd expression on his face. "After all I just told you, you really should."

XXXXXX

The next alpha shift, it was Spock's turn to corner the captain at lunch.

"I was handed an interesting note by a certain doctor with whom we are reluctant acquaintances." Spock began.

"You realize," Kirk said, mouth half full of chicken parmesan and fork waving in the air, "that the only people who follow that rule are the ones who were taught English by a librarian from the 19th century, right?"

Spock watched in fascinated horror as a glob of spaghetti sauce flew off the mobile fork and splattered on the table. "To what rule do you refer, Captain?"

"The preposition one! One of the PMs of Britain…a 20th century one, I think, once said, 'This is the sort of rubbish up with which I will not put.'" He grinned, proud of remembering the quote.

"I believe you are in error. No one has been able to reliably attribute that quotation to Sir Churchill, and the variations in both the wording and the supposed situation in which the quotation occurred indicate that, in all probability, every one of the anecdotes are apocryphal."

"So, I'm wrong about who the quote came from, but I'm still right about my original grammatical point?" Kirk suggested hopefully.

"If one wishes to practice correct grammar, one would best phrase your previous utterance as 'I am wrong about from whom the quotation came."

Kirk gave up. The half-Vulcan loved his rules, even the proscriptive ones, and this was getting patently ridiculous. Not even Spock generally spoke like that. He settled for rolling his eyes, to make sure Spock didn't think his arguments had been enough to convince him.

They ate in silence for a beat.

"Captain," Spock said as he daintily carved up an alien vegetable he'd charmed out of the replicator, "I had a purpose for initiating this conversation, and it did not involve librarians."

"Shoot." Said Kirk. Spock raised an eyebrow. Kirk sighed and waved his fork at his first officer. "You know what I mean."

"I can, using my considerable deductive skills, just about ascertain your meaning." Said Spock, using his Smug Bastard voice. "I will take your colloquialism as an invitation to speak. Did you truly fear that Doctor McCoy would put you on psychological observation if I did not, and I quote, 'back you up'? I also doubt that he exerted any force in obtaining that information from you."

Kirk smothered a smile. He'd scribbled 'Spock, Bones made me tell him about Safe Mode. Back me up, else he'll put me on psych watch.'

"No physical force, but he's been feeling jilted because I've been spending so much time with you. And anyway, he's my friend, and he honestly thought that something was wrong with me. Even suggested that you had something to do with it. I was pleasantly surprised when he took it that well."

"I am not sure I could in good conscious describe the way he responded to your revelation as 'well.' Perhaps he practiced some form of hitherto undemonstrated emotional control while conversing with you. I was not so fortunate. He was unnecessarily loud and inflammatory when he spoke to me." Spock frowned minutely. "I do not think whatever you told him succeeded in assuaging any doubts he had as to your mental state or to my innocence."

"Well," Kirk said, leaning back in his chair, "if he keeps bugging you, let me know. Otherwise, I'll let it simmer. I'd rather not give him any excuses to talk to me about it."


	3. In Which The Aliens Are Polite

AN:

Arigatou to everyone who's reading my silly story. Arigatou gozaimasu (also known as 'thank you-squared') to anyone who's left a review. Questions/concerns/comments are very welcome. Also, I'd be ecstatic if you took the time to PM me about any spelling/grammatical errors you see. I know those really detract from the reading experience.

AN/

In Which The Aliens Are Polite

A few shift rotations later:

"Incoming transmission from Admiral Pike, Captain." Uhura intoned. Kirk got the feeling that she didn't really like him. Which was kind of bizarre, because he hadn't leered at her since he'd learned her first name. And that she was into his first officer. Ever since the _Narada _incident he'd treated her with nothing but respect. And fear. But she wouldn't budge.

Spock rose from his seat at the science station and took his recently claimed spot behind the captain's chair.

"Ok. Put it on the main screen, Lieutenant." Kirk said lazily. Despite his tone, he corrected his posture and adjusted his shirt while he was waiting for the Admiral to appear onscreen.

The image resolved into the image of a fit man in his early fifties, forced into early retirement from his position as captain due to damage to his spinal cord. Pike leaned forward in his chair and looked at Kirk intently.

"Captain Kirk. How's my old ship doing?" Kirk grinned at his mentor. Nothing had gone wrong with any of his recent missions, and he'd been (reluctantly) keeping up with his paperwork. This transmission should be a pleasant one. He'd had his fair share of reprimands from Pike in the past four years, but that hadn't reduced his affection for the man.

"Well, sir, with the number of modifications Scotty's come up with since I became Captain, I'm not sure how much of her is from the ship you knew." Pike raised an eyebrow. The gesture was so familiar that Kirk couldn't stop himself from glancing back at his first officer. Spock's face was carefully blank which, Kirk decided, was a good thing. He wasn't sure whether he could survive being trapped between the warring eyebrows of the two closest things he had to authority figures in his life.

"I'm sure it's close enough for nostalgia's sake, sir." He said cheekily to the viewscreen.

"Nostalgia!" Pike grumbled, but anyone on the bridge could tell that he wasn't really annoyed. "Listen up, reprobate. I've got a new mission for you…."

XXXXXX

It was the Enterprise's first solely diplomatic mission. Actually, it was a diplomatic fluff mission, as they were required to do nothing more than avoid cultural faux pas and look pretty. The Souflakti of Chiron Beta Prime were holding a celebration to commemorate the 50th anniversary of when the Federation had made contact with them. They'd politely requested that some Starfleet representatives be sent, and they'd gotten the flag ship full of greenies.

In the briefing room were Kirk, Spock, one of Spock's protégés, McCoy, Uhura, one of Uhura's protégés, and Sulu (as he would be in charge of the ship in the absence of the higher commanding officers). Kirk fidgeted.

"Are there any videotapes of interactions with these people?" He asked somewhat plaintively.

"No sir." Uhura said with a frown. "In their culture, videotapes are considered extremely personal. Any videotapes Starfleet shoot cannot be allowed off planet."

"So, none?"

"Captain, Commander Spock and I have put together a complete dossier on these people and their customs. You have all the information you need right here." She said severely.

He muttered under his breath, "I beg to differ, Lieutenant." However, Spock was the only one close enough to hear. He raised an eyebrow at the captain, but Kirk just gave him a minute shake of his head.

Acting as though the captain's interruption never happened, Uhura motioned for her protégé to commence the meeting. At Kirk's raised eyebrows, she explained that she wanted Ensign Carter to get experience. He shrugged, and nodded for the Ensign to continue.

The Souflakti may have technically been a member of the Federation for two decades, but neither group was very active with the other. Occasionally biologists, linguists, or anthropologists from the Federation would make an expedition to the planet. They would be treated with the utmost respect, but they were unable to fully integrate themselves into society. After a while, the cultural attitude of emotional distance would wear on them, and they would eventually leave. Physically, the natives looked mostly humanoid, though their average height wasn't much over 1.2 meters. Linguistically, their language could be tolerably replicated by a skilled Federation polyglot, but they were unable to speak Standard. This factor, along with their relative technological infancy, had kept the Souflakti from traveling very far off planet. They were far enough away from any contested part of space that their planet would not be useful as a base, and they did not have anything to trade that Starfleet particularly wanted. In any case, the Federation had decided that allies were almost always useful, and it was only polite to send someone to the celebration.

And it was only logical to send the young, untried captain to an unimportant (and technologically inadvanced) planet to get his first taste of diplomacy. Ensign Carter didn't include that last bit in his report, but Kirk could feel it hanging unspoken in the air.

The rest of the briefing went off without a hitch, but the half hour afterwards did not. Spock was determined to teach Kirk the respectful gesture which was almost indispensable in Souflakti society. Kirk was having problems.

"I do not understand why this simple action is so difficult for you to master." Spock said, distressed.

"Fuck it, I'll just wing it." Kirk grumbled, and exited the conference room to forestall any protests his first officer might voice.

XXXXXX

The landing party consisted of Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, Doctor McCoy, Lieutenant Uhura, and her protégé from the briefing, Ensign Carter. They beamed down to the planet's surface, materializing in a large and ornate hall in one of the government buildings. They were approached by several Souflakti officials who graciously, with much bowing and politely subservient language (as translated by Uhura), welcomed Starfleet to their humble planet. Kirk was almost paralyzed by uncertainty, but he managed an awkward bow and some suitably polite greetings. Uhura was about to murder him for his unconvincing performance, but he was saved from early death when another Souflakti hurried into the room and unobtrusively caught the officials' attention. The group excused themselves and retreated halfway across the room to discuss whatever development had come up.

Uhura leaned closer to the landing party and began to recite, yet again, her lecture on the customs of this planet. Kirk quickly cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. He was peering intently at the group of aliens.

"Sir, I really think—"Uhura began in a chiding tone.

"Shhh!" the captain hissed impatiently.

"Sir, you don't know the language. What do you—"

"I said shut it, Lieutenant!" Kirk whispered in an undertone. "I don't need to speak the damned language to see that Twitchy there" he indicated the Souflakti who had rushed into the room, "is of a lower rank, and displays this by bowing low, nodding while he's listening to the others, and never interrupting. The three that met us are closer to being peers, but I feel like the level of deference they give each other is due to expertise. The one with the ridiculous hat was the spokesperson when talking to us, and the other two had their faces turned slightly towards her. But now Ludicrous Hat is deferring to Diamond Earrings, who's doing most of the talking. I'm guessing that it's an internal matter, but who knows what Diamond Earrings oversees? Actually, scratch that about the last one being a peer of Hat and Earrings, now she's taking notes! And nodding emphatically all the while. I guess she was holding back while they were talking to us so as not to draw attention to herself. Look at that, Hat just used the hand gesture on Earrings. Must have been suggesting—oh, there we go, Earrings is leaving with Twitchy to handle the problem." He stopped his commentary as the newly named Hat and her secretary approached the group. Kirk adjusted his posture, rounding his shoulders and lowering his head slightly. He was abruptly employing an exact imitation of the Souflakti's bearing.

"I beg your exalted forgiveness." Hat said via Uhura. "Our medical team has been analyzing the food we're preparing for tomorrow's modest feast, and they were unsure whether a certain ingredient would be suitable for your palates. That was—" Here Uhura paused. "I doubt the Captain could pronounce the name, but it's the being that left with the courier—That was one of our humble xenobiologists who was forced so rudely to leave your presence and assist in the preparation of the food."

Kirk gave a little nod/bow, one suitable for peers. "It is of no consequence. I thank you for your solicitous consideration, and respectfully offer the expertise of our own medical doctor, Leonard McCoy." Here Kirk angled his body to partially face the doctor, and he perfectly executed the deferential hand gesture that Spock had tried so hard to teach him. Facing Hat again, he continued, "His small knowledge of human biology might be of some little assistance to your xenobiologists, honored one."

Uhura had gaped at him when he first started speaking, but quickly pulled herself together enough to translate the captain's speech. Hat nodded gratefully, "I welcome the aid of your most exalted medical professional. You are most kind and condescending—Mind you," Uhura interjected, "I use the word for the now mostly obsolete meaning 'to yield deferentially.'—in your offer. Please, allow me to guide you to the quarters you will be residing in during your stay." And with another nod/bow which Kirk returned, they proceeded out of the hallway.

Hat led them outside to a garden. After following a path for a couple minutes, they came to a smaller building built in a similar style to the one they'd arrived in. Hat bowed, told them that she should be back to collect them for some sort of meet and greet in approximately 2.6 of their standard hours, and left. The landing party filed into the building. There was one large room with many closets and pantries recessed into the walls. In the room were a few low tables scattered around as well as some paper screens standing folded in a corner. There were three regular doors and one sliding door made of what looked like lacquered paper. The regular doors led outside, to the kitchen, and to the bathroom. A search of the closets revealed plenty of futons, blankets, pillows, and cushions. Once everyone was more or less comfortably settled (McCoy didn't appreciate being asked to sit on the floor, so he claimed the bathroom for a quick shower), Uhura fixed Kirk with a look.

"Now that we're alone, Captain, would you mind telling me what the hell happened back there?"

Kirk glanced at Spock. Unusually, he seemed content to sit by and watch as the lieutenant grilled his captain.

Uhura noticed. "Yes, Commander Spock won't be coming to your rescue either. He's just as curious as I am." She said with a smirk.

Kirk shifted uncomfortably. "I just copied what they did. It wasn't difficult."

"It's more than that, Captain." Spock prompted. "I spent 31.4 minutes attempting to teach you that hand gesture which you used, quite naturally and correctly, in your conversation with the honored one. You experienced no success under my tutelage. I am curious as to how you mastered it."

"I just watched them while they were talking, and it clicked." Kirk winced to show that he knew how lacking his explanation was.

"Fascinating. Would this be why you requested visual recordings during your briefing?"

"Yes. I've noticed I that don't understand certain things unless I see them in context. Sorry." He said with a sigh.

"On the contrary. You simply needed the correct input. While watching the meeting with the xenobiologist, the honored one, and the courier, you quickly identified the stations and mannerisms of each being, and then skillfully appropriated the correct ones for your own use. The honored one was gratified and put at ease by your actions and, even, the tone of your voice. It is an eminently useful skill to have."

Kirk blinked at the praise. "Thank you, Spock. Yes, I know, you were merely stating facts, thanks are unnecessary, etc, let me finish speaking, please." Uhura squinted at the two of them, as though they were a new language she was trying to master. "But my late save doesn't excuse the fact that I was almost paralyzed when we first beamed down. All of the advice I'd been given turned to gibberish in my head. I'll have to figure out a way around that problem."

Spock inclined his head. "With any luck, Captain, the next civilization that we come in contact with will not have a taboo against exporting video recordings."

"I suppose you have a point, Spock."

"I generally do," was the sarcastic reply. Kirk grinned. Uhura coughed.

"Ensign Carter and I will explore the garden. We will be back before the honorable one comes to escort us to the meeting."

"Alright Lieutenant." Kirk acknowledged.

Left relatively alone, he and Spock coordinated with Scotty to have their belongings beamed down to the room. They were already wearing clothes of suitable formality for the meeting, so there was no need to change. They were reluctant to relax, as Uhura or McCoy could enter the room at any time, and they really didn't need any more considering stares to deal with. So when Spock announced that he was going to explore the garden, Kirk nodded and waved him off. He'd brought some books down, so he settled down on some cushions to read. A freshly showered McCoy exited from the bathroom and sat down next to him.

"I've seen you do that before." He said.

"What, read?" Kirk asked, not bothering to look up.

"No, blend in." This time he did look up to meet McCoy's gaze.

"Everyone's gotta blend in sometime." He said lightly.

"It's more than that, kid."

"I really don't know what you're trying to get at, Bones." Kirk said with a slight eye roll. He was saved from further discussion by someone clapping outside of the sliding door. Kirk answered it, and saw an unfamiliar native waiting outside. The native bowed, and the captain instantly adjusted his posture and returned the formal gesture. The next couple minutes were occupied with finding and calibrating some universal translators, as the Souflakti hadn't sent a courier who was familiar with standard (and charades was not recognized as a suitable secondary form of communication). Once the kinks were straightened out, the courier let it be known that he was supposed to show McCoy the way to the place where the food was being prepared so that he could verify that everything was edible. The doctor grabbed his bag, bid the captain a gruff farewell ("Don't do anything stupid, kid.") and departed.

Kirk was, once again, left alone. He didn't want to explore the gardens on his own because he had a terrible track record when it came to allergies to alien plants. Terran ones, too, come to think of it. At the moment, he was doped to the eyeballs with a general antihistamine, but he wasn't about to put it to the test. He went back to reading his book.

XXXXXX

The meeting went off without a snag, and the subsequent day was mostly spent on tours of the city and surrounding countryside. Spock, Kirk, and their guides were equipped with universal translators. It was not the best solution to the language problem, as the translators were not able to grasp the nuances of the Souvlakti's polite language, but it was not a problem as long as the atmosphere was relaxed. McCoy remained cloistered with the native xenobiologists, checking and rechecking the chemical composition of the food to ensure that it wouldn't kill anyone.

That afternoon, the landing party donned their formalwear and was escorted to the commemoration dinner. McCoy had arranged that he be seated on one side of the captain, and the rest of the group from the Enterprise were scattered along the main table. Despite, or, perhaps, because of McCoy's worries, dinner was a complete success.

Afterwards the Starfleet representatives and the Souflakti were ushered into a large ballroom. Musicians played a song that was mostly comprised of complicated drumming. A couple of hours into the gathering, Kirk found himself in a corner, listening to a native recite poetry that the universal translator was poorly equipped to make sense of. He had no trouble copying the politely attentive attitudes of the other listeners, but this had been going on for a good ten minutes and time felt like it was slowing down. He was quite relieved when he noticed a courier standing silently next to his shoulder, entirely giving the impression that she was not in any way trying to get his attention. It was something he'd noticed earlier while he'd been carefully observing as many interactions as he could. Interrupting a superior of the courier was an absolute no-no, even if the courier was relaying the message of someone socially superior to the being receiving the message. So the courier would place herself at the edge of a Souflakti's eyesight and wait patiently until recognized.

Kirk angled his body slightly toward the courier and gave a nod/bow. She bowed back, and he made the deferential gesture he'd had such a difficult time learning. She led the way through the large hall and out to a balcony. Kirk was somewhat unsurprised to find the rest of the Enterprise party waiting for him, along with Hat and Earrings. Hat was lacking her namesake but Earrings was making up for it with some monstrosities of silver and copper that hung past his shoulders.

A round of nod/bows ensued. Once that was completed, Hat stepped forward slightly. "I would ask that you disable your translators and allow Translator Uhura to speak for me." Everyone on the balcony reached into their ears and either turned the translator off or stowed it in a pocket. Once that was done, Hat continued.

"I would like to celebrate this occasion by showing you a sight no foreigners have seen for almost 50 years. It is the site that the members of the Federation first set foot upon all that time ago. But even before that, the place had both historical and fictional—" here Uhura put in an aside, " I use fictional because the word the honorable one used indicated that it was like folklore, but with an emphasis on the spiritual, as opposed to literal, meaning of the story—significance to our people. It is where the Concord of Parajth was struck and the 65 year war was put to an end. It is where Svel and Kuruth committed honorable suicide when their respective generals ordered them to fight for opposite causes. It is beautiful, and it is ours. But now, it is also yours. Your stories have joined ours, and this hallowed ground is where it began. Would you be amenable to taking a small trip?"

Kirk glanced at each member of his team in turn, seeing nothing but excitement and curiosity. He smiled and gave his polite assent. "How are we traveling to this place?" He asked.

"We have prepared transportation, which is undoubtedly not as fine or fast as you are accustomed to, but it is serviceable and will allow us to reach our destination before the sun sets."

"If it would be no trouble, I can ask my ship to beam us there in the same way we arrived on the planet. It is a small thing, but I would be overjoyed if you accepted." Hat did not look put out by the offer, which was a relief to Kirk. He didn't want to spend who-knows-how-long driving to and from the place, but he'd been worried that Hat would either politely decline to 'inconvenience' them, or else be affronted and take Kirk's suggestion as a slight on the technological advancements of the Souflakti.

Instead, she just nod/bowed, and passed over a PADD-like object. Kirk quickly handed it off to Spock, who appeared to have no trouble finding and transmitting the beaming coordinates to whoever was manning the transporter station.

On Kirk's mark, the transporter engaged, and they rematerialized on rocky—but relatively flat—ground. The view was just as amazing as the native had said; Kirk could see clearly for miles. He said as much, and began to step forward to get a better view, but he was stopped by a viselike grip on his arm. He knew that grip from sparring with his FO.

"Jim." Spock said, and the tension in his voice was clearly audible.

"What is it, Spock?" he asked casually, glancing behind him to see what was going on. He froze. The other members of the beaming party were stuck in various positions of shock, surprise, and alarm.

"Please step back from the edge, Captain." Spock's voice was level, but the strain had not abated.

"I'm not anywhere near the—"As he voiced his rebuke, he looked down as though to show Spock the truth of his words. But they stuck in his throat. His foot was no more than half a meter from the edge of a truly exceptional cliff. But even that knowledge failed to evoke anything more than intellectual curiosity at how he'd missed so big a detail. "Ok Commander, I'm backing away from the cliff." He said it in the cadence that he'd heard police use in holovids to coax a suicidal person away from the edge of a building. He meant it to be light and sarcastic, but even without looking at his companions he could tell his attempt at levity had fallen flat. He allowed Spock to tow him back to the group and then some. Even when they were an undeniably safe distance from the edge, Spock did not relinquish his grip. Kirk decided that it was, perhaps, a wise precaution.

Hat said something in hushed tones, and Uhura translated reluctantly. "The honorable one just used an idiom from her native language. I can't translate it directly, but it comes out to be something like, 'Those who are unafraid of heights once had wings.' They have something like our Terran angels in their mythology, but they believe that everyone was once an angel and are continually striving to return to that state. Being unafraid of heights is a seen as a sign of being closer to that position."

Seeing that the translation was finished, Hat approached Kirk and took his hand. She said something, and Uhura (behind Hat's back) squinted at Kirk in a way that suggested that this should not go to his head. "She says that this may be silly superstition, but she is still glad to have someone such as yourself representing the Federation on this day. Apparently, the other captain who made contact with this planet exhibited a similar trait, and she, the captain, was so wonderful that she will remain forever in this honorable one's heart. Well, she didn't say heart, but it's a similar sentiment."

Kirk was awed and pretty embarrassed by Hat's speech. He would have found it easier if Uhura had not translated it with such undisguised skepticism. Also, he'd never seen any Souflakti touch another in any way, so he had no clue how to respond to the being holding his hand.

Decisively, he removed his gaze from Uhura (he'd been watching her as she translated) and looked back at Hat. Observing the sincerity and kindness that was being directed his way, he blocked out the uncertainty and self-consciousness. Smiling a little, he said, "I can tell you with honesty that that was the kindest, most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you for your hospitality, the banquet, and the tour of your marvelous city. Thank you for the invitation that brought us here, and thank you for showing me this place which is so steeped in history for both our cultures." He said again, "Thank you." Then he placed his remaining hand over hers, and bowed over their clasped appendages.

He remained in that position until, by some subtle shift in the Souflakti, he knew the moment was up. He raised his head and gently unfastened his hands from hers. From her look of approval, he knew he'd done the correct thing. They each took a step back from the other (the natives' sense of personal space was quite large when compared to most humans), and Hat suggested that Kirk contact his ship to have them returned to the city. He excused himself, and walked a little way from the group. McCoy followed.

The doctor planted himself in front of his friend and crossed his arms. In a surprisingly discreet undertone, he said, "That senile alien may have had some pretty things to say about your damnfool lack on survival instincts, but don't for a second think this is over."

Kirk nodded reluctantly. When McCoy said nothing more, he comm'd the transporter room to ask for a lift.


	4. In Which the Captain Explains

AN: First off, I need to say something:

What did I ever do to get reviewers who are made of such win? LyradanaGreetsTheWind (is your name not highlighted because you're anonymous? I know nothing of these things) went so far as to chuck such serious things as 'plot device' and 'character exploration' into (I'm going to randomly assign you a gender, here) her review. Liek, woah. Thank you, and rock on.

Merci à Shinku for your error-catching and your scary-prescient questions. Tarsus IV and Safe Mode? Um, what would ever make you think that? *whistles innocently*

And to all of those other awesome people who reviewed and read Safe Mode (there is a direct correlation between reviews/story hits and posting speed, methinks), I'd like to PM each one of you and thank you personally. But I'm afraid that I'd come off as stalkerish. If you don't mind it, I'd love to talk :D

/AN

In Which The Captain Explains

Kirk had to admit that he was impressed, nevertheless, when Uhura, McCoy, and Spock showed up outside of his door presenting a semi-united front only a few hours later. He knew that McCoy still mistrusted Spock, and Spock thought that McCoy was illogical and unnecessarily inflammatory. Uhura was upset that Spock wouldn't tell her what was going on, and Spock felt that appearing too friendly would give her greater leverage when she was trying to pry his secrets from him. Uhura and McCoy each championed a different side of the Spock/Kirk issue, so some animosity was a foregone conclusion.

And yet, here they were, united in their concern about the captain's apparent death wish. Let it never be said that Jim Kirk does not bring people together.

They filed into the room. Kirk sat on the bed. McCoy took the desk chair, and scooted it closer to Kirk. Uhura and Spock took the seats around the chess set, but both of them purposely distanced themselves from the game. Kirk almost laughed.

There was a moment of silence where Uhura glared at McCoy and Spock looked nowhere in particular. McCoy sighed.

"Jim, we need to talk."

A smile quirked Kirk's lips before he could stop it. "Is this an intervention, Bones?"

"Take this seriously!" Uhura demanded. "You could have stepped off that cliff before any of us had noticed that you were in danger. I know I have a low opinion of a lot of the things you do, but usually you're more careful than that!"

"Yeah, Jim. You gotta keep your eyes open. No matter what the natives say, there's nothing anyone could do to save you if you went over."

Now that 2/3 of his interrogation squad had gotten their two cents in, Kirk looked expectantly at Spock. However, he apparently wasn't about to talk with the other two present, because he gave Kirk a minute shake of his head and went back to staring at the wall. Bastard. He shouldn't be allowed to back up Uhura and McCoy and still keep his mouth shut. Kirk suppressed a sigh (his audience would probably find it childish) and returned his attention to the vocal half of his quarters' occupants.

"What would you like me to tell you? That I'll be more careful in the future? That's not a promise I can keep. I can say it, though, if it'll make you feel better."

"What do you mean, it's not a promise you can keep?" McCoy growled, a warning in his voice.

"I mean that I'm not afraid of heights. That's all. I try to be careful around them but sometimes, like today, it just doesn't compute. It's not like I have a death wish, or anything." The look on McCoy's face said _Damn straight, you don't. There's a hypospray for that._ Uhura simply kept staring at Kirk.

"How can you not be afraid of heights? What you're claiming goes beyond a lack of acrophobia; you're not even afraid of heights when it's a completely rational response. How can you expect me to—" she stopped herself. Her eyes widened in realization. "You're telling the truth."

Kirk gave her a 'well, duh' eye roll.

McCoy was giving her a curious look, so she explained. "When Kirk, Sulu, and Olson jumped out of that shuttle to destroy the mining rig I was the one monitoring their frequencies. Sulu and Olson both experienced a rush of adrenalin, but Kirk's heart rate and respiration were barely elevated. You're really not afraid of heights." Kirk opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'That's what I've been telling you!,' but she shook her head, frowning. "I know you've been saying that, but I didn't believe you. I thought it was misplaced male bravado, or that you were trying to cover up your stupid mistake by pretending that you weren't affected. But you really weren't." She finished simply. Kirk nodded, relieved.

"What I don't understand," McCoy broke in, "is why you people think that this clears the problem up! I would be fine with a little 'misplaced male bravado,' 'cause then there'd be a chance of knocking some sense into him! As it is, now I gotta go review my classical conditioning techniques, as that seems to be the only way to cure your type of crazy." Kirk laughed because he knew that his friend was joking. Probably. It'd flown right over Spock's head, though.

"Doctor, are you serious in your stated plan to use a primitive psychological training technique which, I might point out, Terran scientists for the past 300 years have classified as being unsuitable for human use, on your captain?" Kirk wasn't sure he'd ever heard Spock sound this shocked.

"It's used on humans regularly enough—haven't you heard of aversion therapy and systematic desensitization?"

"Those are only employed to put an end to deadly substance abuse or cases where the subject is so paralyzed by a phobia that he cannot function at all within normal parameters, respectively. Even then, it is what is known as a 'last ditch' attempt. Vulcans rightly view any blatant form of behavioral modification as barbaric. I will prevent you from practicing such techniques on all members of the crew."

"Jeez, Spock, I was joking. Don't get yer panties in a twist." McCoy retreated from his position, realizing that, even if he had been serious, this was not an argument he wanted to have.

The tension in the room did not abate.

"Perhaps more headway would be achieved if I spoke to the Captain. Alone." Spock did not so much ask as demand, still with that oh-so-logical tone of voice.

McCoy and Uhura looked at Spock. They looked at Kirk. They looked at each other. And they came to the same conclusion.

"Much as I hate to say it, the green-blooded hobgoblin just might be able to think of a solution with that ginormous brain of his." McCoy admitted.

Uhura looked defeated. She nodded, and accompanied McCoy out of Kirk's quarters.

The remaining occupants of the captain's quarters regarded each other warily.

XXXXXX

Spock broke the silence first. "Captain, while I do agree with the sentiment expressed by Doctor McCoy and Lt. Uhura—here I refer to their concern for your wellbeing—I am in a, perhaps, unique position to understand your problem. I realize that there is an 89.44 percent probability that, within the course of your lifetime, you will never be able to regain any of your natural fear of heights. I only ask that, where heights are concerned, you inform a member of the landing party of your tendency to ignore danger and have them monitor your safety. Preferably, this person would be myself, as my reflexes and strength are superior to humans, but I realize that this would be unreasonable."

Having spoken his piece, Spock straightened in his seat (he'd been leaning forward slightly while delivering his request) and waited for Kirk's response.

Kirk chewed on his lip thoughtfully. It would be embarrassing to have to ask a crewmember to babysit him, but that wouldn't actually be necessary unless he placed himself around cliffs, tall buildings, etc. The easiest thing to do would be to avoid them, but that's what he should have been doing anyway. He didn't see any reason to refuse this request, and it would make Spock (and hopefully Bones and Uhura) happier.

"I agree to your terms." He said with a half smile. Some of the stress left Spock's shoulders, and Kirk relaxed in the now companionable silence. After a beat, he stood up and dragged his desk chair over to the terminal.

"So Spock, tell me about that article on the subjectivity of time you mentioned the other day. You know, the one by that Andorian hermit that was published…how many years posthumously?"

"82.3 Standard years." Spock seemed relieved at the change in topic. "That particular article, along with numerous others, was recovered along with his body when an unfortunate group of humans—engaging in what I believe is called 'extreme ice cave spelunking'—accidentally disturbed the ice he was encased in."

"How do you 'accidentally disturb' ice?" Kirk asked skeptically.

"In this case, I believe that dynamite was used." Spock's tone clearly conveyed that, in his opinion, the folly of Humans knows no bounds.

Kirk gave surprised snort. "Dynamite? How does dynamite figure into spelunking?"

"It does not. I am under the impression that the dynamite is what adds the adjective 'extreme' to the moniker."

"That _totally_ explains it." Said Kirk with a roll of his eyes.

XXXXXX

A good number of shift rotations passed in which there was a marked absence of accidents, injuries, and near death experiences involving one James T. Kirk. Spock and Kirk watching was still in vogue, but they completely failed to provide the crew with any new data. They played go in the captain's quarters (Kirk had gotten bored of chess), they bickered on the bridge, and they had conversations where at least half of the dialogue appeared to be transmitted through body language while doing their rounds on the ship. Spock would stop walking, or perhaps just look at the captain in a significant way. Kirk would slightly raise an eyebrow, and maybe flick his gaze to something and back. Spock would frown and cock his head slightly to the left. Then Kirk would descend on the unsuspecting engineering ensign currently filling the position of tour guide, asking about some barely perceptible vibrations and wondering whether Scotty had gotten approval for that modification to the wiring system that he shouldn't have been able to notice after such a cursory inspection.

Using these details as a baseline for normality, it would be accurate to say that life on the Enterprise proceeded normally.

Some, however, were still wishing for a return to a previous point of equilibrium.

XXXXXX

"We need to talk." Said Uhura as she slid into a seat across from Kirk at his lunch table.

"Shoot." He said, then sniggered.

Uhura gave him a wary look. "Why do you insist on emotionally compromising Spock?"

Kirk frowned. "Umm…I don't? I swear, I haven't said anything about his mother."

"Don't be obtuse, Captain." What was it with people putting emphasis on his title as a reprimand? "Emotional compromise doesn't just refer to negative emotions, like anger. Any emotional display counts as a compromise, as far as Vulcans who follow Surakian principles are concerned."

"Ok, so I haven't been really nice about his mom, either."

"This is serious! I don't know what you've been doing to him, but in the past couple weeks he's displayed more emotion around you than he did the entire time I knew him at the Academy."

"You two were a couple while at the Academy, weren't you?" She shot him a murderous glare. "Ok, ok, personal's off-limits, right. Oh wait, what you're inquiring about is personal, too! How about that." He drew the last sentence out in the most annoying way he knew how. "Look, if you want answers, why don't you just ask Spock. I'm sure your boyfriend'd tell you whatever you want to know." If it was possible, the anger in her eyes intensified at this. Then, just as suddenly, the life drained out of her face to be replaced with sadness.

"Captain, we were never really in a relationship. Actually, I don't think he was even interested in me like that." Kirk's eyes widened, but she continued before he could marshal some suitably commiseratory words to say. "This sounds like the worse cliché reversal ever, but I was the one pushing the physical side of things, and he just liked me for my intellect. We're still friends, though, and if you had asked me three weeks ago, I would say that I'm the closest thing to a best friend he has, and vice versa. Now, I don't know. Overnight, everything changed. It always seems like he's waiting for our discussions to end, waiting for a lull in the conversation so he can excuse himself. And inevitably, he ends up in your quarters. And no one will tell me what's going on!" There was grief in her voice.

"First, let me tell you that Bones had a similar reaction. He was convinced that something was wrong with me, and that it was Spock's fault. Nothing I said would persuade him otherwise." Kirk stared at Uhura for a moment. "You are right, something did happen. But it's no one's fault. It wasn't even anything particularly bad. But Spock and I…I guess the best word would be 'bonded' over a shared experience." Halfway through the last sentence, Uhura made an undignified choking sound. Kirk quickly looked at her, but as she hadn't been eating or drinking anything, he couldn't begin to imagine what had made her choke. "Are you ok?" He asked uncertainly.

"Bonded?" She asked weakly. "As in, the Vulcan marriage bond?"

"What. What?" He said frantically, as his word choice unexpectedly took on a whole new meaning. "No! Not like that. At all. In any way. We're just friends."

"And this shared experience?" Uhura asked, somehow sounding amused and disdainful at the same time.

"I can't go into more details. No, I really can't. I told Bones about it, but only because he's known me long enough. You, I think, have a similar relationship with Spock, minus the hyposprays. If you can get him to tell you, that's great. Otherwise, I'm not staying another word." He sat back and crossed his arms.

Uhura's brow furrowed, and she looked like she was thinking very hard and very fast about whether she could push this further. Evidently she came to the conclusion that she couldn't, because stood up and left without another word.

Kirk sighed and went back to his hamburger.

XXXXXX

"Hey Chekov?"

"Yes, Keptin?" replied Chekov from his seat at the helm.

Kirk bit back a giggle. Chekov didn't say it right.

"What's our ETA to the border?" He asked a bit impatiently.

They were on their way to pick up some Starfleeters who'd voluntarily marooned themselves on an asteroid at the edge of explored space. Apparently, this had been done in the name of science. On its way there, the Enterprise was tasked with playing border guard for a bit along the edge of Klingon-controlled space. Some nerd had worked out that, if a Federation ship showed itself along that bit of border every 237 hours or so (Kirk hadn't paid much attention to the margin of error), hostile actions by Klingon warbirds fell by 64 percent. Normally, he'd concede that, with those numbers, this was at least partially a worthwhile use of the Enterprise. Spock had checked the original report, though, and seemed uniformly disdainful of every facet of the study—the methods of data collection, the data in general, the formulas used, the conclusions reached, everything. Kirk had facetiously suggested that Spock redo the study to get more accurate results, and was surprised when his first officer took him seriously and asked for some time to allot to the research. He'd seen no reason to refuse.

"Twenty-sewen hours, Keptin." Answered the navigator.

Kirk fidgeted.

"Commander Spock, would you mind briefing me on the steps you are taking to improve the Study of Hostile Klingon Actions, Pertaining to the 50-4-45 to 60-3-37 Stretch of the Federation-Klingon Border?" Spock raised an eyebrow, probably expressing his mild surprise that Kirk had the long-winded study title memorized. Kirk raised one of his eyebrows in response, despite the fact that Spock had told him that he looks ridiculous and asked him politely to 'cease and desist that action'. The standoff probably would have continued if Kirk had not been distracted by a snort of poorly stifled laughter.

By the time he looked in the direction the noise had came from everyone had blankly professional faces on, and they were strangely enthralled in whatever was going on at their stations. If Kirk had to put a bet on the originator of the phantom snort, he felt his money would be pretty safe on Sulu, though.

He turned back to Spock with a mental shrug. "I ask because, knowing you, the end result will be a well-researched, well-defined set of guidelines for collecting similar data, as well as elegant and robust equations capable of being generalized across many situations. On the other hand, whatever we were sent was not. I didn't take any research sciences classes, so while I may be familiar with the math involved, I do not know what to look for when determining the accuracy of a study. I think it would be beneficial if I knew what to look for, and what better to use as a case study than the one you're working on?"

Spock executed a thoughtful nod. "The only fault that I can find with your logic is that determining the accuracy of scientific studies is what your science officer is for, and therefore does not fall under the range of skills required of a captain. Nevertheless, I find your quest for knowledge to be admirable, and it would be logical for me to encourage this trait." Kirk laughed.

"I am encountering even more difficulty than usual in reaching a hypothesis for the cause of your mirth." Spock said archly, in the tone of voice he used when Kirk laughed at him and he hadn't done anything on purpose to invite amusement.

"I thought you said that Vulcans were against using conditioning on intelligent beings?" Kirk challenged.

"That assertion is so fraught with inaccuracies that it fails to even meet the lax standards of a 'paraphrase.'" The distaste in his voice clearly conveyed how imprecise and unnecessary he found paraphrasing to be. "I stated—and be sure to note the difference between your utterance and mine—that 'Vulcans rightly view any blatant form of behavioral modification as barbaric.' Vulcan parents recognize the usefulness of a subtle reward system on children too young to employ basic logic to govern their actions. It is a standard parenting practice, and the unemotional nature of the caregivers renders these methods of be highly effective." Silence followed Spock's lecture.

Kirk was deep in thought. He spoke slowly, "Spock I think—correct me if I'm wrong—but I think you just compared my mental control to that of a Vulcan toddler."

Spock tilted his head slightly in thought. Kirk had asked about this habit during the freeze, and Spock had informed him that he'd made a conscious decision to acquire the tendency, because humans would, illogically, assume that he had not heard their question if he did not give an outward indication that he was thinking. "Your ability to completely ignore the main point of my speech and instead infer some ulterior meaning never ceases to astound me. While I cannot say that that conclusion was the conscious reason behind my word choice and actions, I cannot dispute it, either."

Kirk could feel the eyes of most of the bridge crew on him, waiting to see how he'd respond to Spock's dissing of his mental abilities. So he laughed, which is what he would have done had they been alone in his quarters, and asked innocently, "So, if I'm a toddler in Vulcan terms, what does that make Bones?"

Spock considered the question.

"A sehlat."

XXXXXX

Border patrol was boring but tense. They buzzed past a few Klingon outposts, presented arms when some 'scouting' craft were launched, and basically made it known that the Federation was watching. Then they skipped off to pick up some half-frozen scientists. The main command crew needed to be on duty when picking up the passengers, but there was an ETA of four hours to the asteroid and Alpha shift had just ended. So they were off duty for the time being, and they needed something to entertain themselves with….

XXXXXX

"Keptin." Chekov said uncertainly.

"Yes, Chekov?" Kirk, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty had taken over a rec room to play their version of the ancient Terran game, Monopoly. They'd created an Enterprise edition. Currently, to everyone's annoyance, Scotty had managed to acquire all four replicators, and he was charging exorbitant rent to anyone who landed on them.

"Ahum, I do not mean zis in a disrespectful way, but I am curious."

"Go on, you can ask." Kirk said encouragingly, but inside he was worrying a bit. Chekov was young, and he was a genius, so he tended to have great observational skills but no personal experience with which to interpret what he saw. Sometimes his questions were distressingly direct.

"Why do you not mind it when Commander Spock is disrespectful? He sometimes says such nasty sings." Chekov glanced at Sulu, and Sulu gave him an encouraging nod. Interesting, Kirk thought.

"What's this abo' the Commander bein' disrespectful?" Scotty asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

Sensing another ally, the navigator turned to Scotty. "How do you not know zis? Sometimes ze Commander says horrible sings to ze keptin, and ze keptin just laughs! It happens so much!"

Scotty frowned thoughtfully. "Ah've seen them banter a bit when they're down in engineering, but it wasn't anything that bad."

"No, Chekov's right. It's happened a couple of times on the bridge. That we've seen, at least." Sulu amended.

"He hates ze keptin!" Chekov declared melodramatically.

"Pavel, we've talked about this. He doesn't hate the captain." Sulu chided. "He's just… sometimes he's really nice, and sometimes he comes off as sort of, um, passive aggressive. Do you guys have a lot of disagreements?"

Kirk had been watching the exchange with morbid fascination. "Where's this all coming from? We just, well…Bones calls it bickering. That's right! Bones and I argue all the time, but you don't have a problem with that, right?"

"The doctor's your friend, we know that. He didn't bring you up on academic probation and strangle you on the bridge." Sulu pointed out.

"I kinda asked for that. For both of those things, actually. And they happened over a year ago. Why can't Spock be my friend, now?" Kirk knew that it was a simplistic question, but he was curious to hear what they'd come up with. Realizing that the game had stalled on his turn, he rolled the dice and moved his piece (he'd talked a member of the security staff with an artistic flair into making him a Keenser figurine).

"The commander's a Vulcan, Captain." Scotty reminded Kirk. "Ah don't think they do 'friend.' Not with crazy humans, at least."

"Speaking of disrespecting the captain…." Kirk said with fake menace in his voice. Scotty started.

"Ah didnae mean you in particular! They think all humans are crazy!" Kirk started laughing.

"See Scotty? Spock isn't doing it to be mean any more than you were. Actually, more often than not he insults me specifically _because_ I'll find it funny." Sulu looked skeptical.

"How can you know that? I mean, really know that? You're saying that Spock has a sense of humor. But you're the only one he says such horrible things to, and it's not like he laughs or smiles to make sure you know it's a joke." An idea popped into Kirk's head.

"Listen to what you just said. I'm the _only one_ he does it to. Now think back a couple months ago. Did he do it then?"

Brows furrowed in thought.

"No, no he did not, keptin." Chekov declared.

"So you agree that this is a new development?" Heads nodded reluctantly, unsure of where this was going.

"Ok, and have you ever had a sibling, a friend, whatever, who you're always trading insults with? Each time he insults you, you try to turn it around and send it back. And you know each other so well that biggest part of the exchange is not the actual insults, but the creativity used in making them? Inside jokes, shared memories, that time you ate glue in kindergarten…everything's up for grabs, but that just makes it funnier." Light had dawned in Chekov's eyes, and Sulu and Scotty were nodding.

"I know what you mean, keptin! I haff sree full siblings and two step-brozzers, and we are poking fun at each other all ze time." Sulu was smiling.

"I knew that I was missing something. That's exactly what you and the commander were reminding me of, but it didn't click because I don't think of Spock as being the sort of person who'd kid around like that."

"Exactly." Kirk confirmed. He hadn't put that much thought into his interactions with Spock, but now that he'd seen the pattern he realized how comfortable he and Spock really were around one another. "If he'd been doing it maliciously, he would have been insulting me from day one. Instead, he only started once we'd gotten to know each other."

"Sank you, keptin. Zis makes me feel much better." Chekov said, right before he rolled his dice and ended up in the brig.


	5. In Which The Scientists Infect

In Which The Scientists Infect The Captain

Bill Catseye, leader of the troop of scientists, was not happy to see them.

"No, no, no. Weren't you told? Why didn't anyone tell you? Someone" he glared off-screen, "decided to be all smart and give Starfleet the rendezvous time in Terran SDT. Except, it's not daylight savings time over there right now, and anyway he forgot that Starfleet's on the Pacific coast. You really weren't told about this? You're going to invalidate all of our data! Go away! Come back in two hours."

The viewscreen went blank. Kirk drew in a breath to ask Spock a question, but his first officer beat him to the punch.

"No, Captain, I believe he was exaggerating. I am unaware of any way our presence could render the entirety of their collected data to be worthless." Kirk nodded.

"Well, we can't forcibly beam them abo—oh wait, we can." It was Kirk's turn to answer Spock before he'd had a chance to ask a question. "Don't worry, Commander, I was joking. I know, I know, 'worry' is a human emotion, must we go through this every time?" Spock raised an eyebrow in lieu of commenting on Kirk's ability to carry on discussions without the input of anyone else.

Kirk waved a hand in Sulu's direction. "You heard the man, Helm. Take 'er away before we give Catseye an aneurism."

XXXXXX

Kirk made sure that Spock and McCoy were with him when he met the scientists as they were beamed aboard. He figured that being given the cold shoulder by three of the highest ranking officers on the Enterprise might just manage to convey to Catseye how pissed they were for being yanked around.

Spock took point.

"Greetings, Humans." Kirk had insisted that Spock say that.

"Lemmie have a look at y'all." McCoy grumbled, approaching the transporter pad. "Who knows what you coulda picked up, spending two weeks on that icy rock." Kirk hung back and observed.

There were five people standing on the pad. One, Catseye, he'd already met. There was one other man, and he was looking very tense and wary. Of the three women, one had jumped a bit when McCoy began to approach her, one was bundled up much more than the others and still shivering, and the last one had, as soon as they'd materialized, begun to attend to Shivers.

"We're fine, we're fine." Catseye growled. "Get that thing away from us." He attempted to ward off McCoy's tricorder by waving his arms. "We're fine, Casey's just a little cold. You're ok, right Casey?" Casey (Shivers) didn't reply, but her buddy shot Catseye a murderous glare.

"She's not ok! Are you a doctor?" She asked McCoy. At his assent, she continued, "Please show us where the medbay is. We haven't been able to diagnose her."

McCoy's jaw dropped. "Fuck! You've got an undiagnosed sick person and you didn't bother to tell us? What kind of scientists are you people?" Still muttering curses under his breath he herded the passengers, the captain, the first officer, and himself back onto the transporter pad. Then he instructed the technician to run the decontamination sequence.

Catseye spent the entire time complaining that the precautions were unnecessary, but Spock employed some of his cutting sarcasm and managed to temporarily shut the bastard up. Once decontamination was complete, McCoy equipped the scientists with face masks and, muttering about herding cats, transported them down to sickbay.

Kirk raised his eyebrows and looked at Spock.

"Well, that went well!"

XXXXXX

Kirk caught the mystery illness. McCoy was reasonably certain that he hadn't gotten sick from when he met the party in the transporter room. Rather, he suspected that it had something to do with when Jumpy (the woman who'd exhibited a fear of tricorders) sneezed on the captain.

Kirk didn't see any reason to disagree.

McCoy, with the help of Spock and the female doctor from the asteroid group, were combing Starfleet's extensive records in search of a diagnosis. Its unique symptoms made it easy to rule out just about everything they came across.

Kirk, meanwhile, was stuck in quarantine with Casey and Orson (Jumpy). There was nothing to do but huddle in his bed with the electric blankets cranked on high and talk to the women.

Orson'd tried to convince him of the scientific reasons behind requesting to be marooned on a lump of rock in the middle of nowhere, but he wasn't buying it. He maintained that there had to be an easier way to evaluate space survival equipment than to test it in a real (but completely unnecessary) emergency.

Add that to the fact that at least two of the crew had gotten sick while carrying out the experiment (they were pretty sure that they hadn't been sick pre-marooning, and Casey's symptoms had only presented themselves two hours before the Enterprise had shown up), and the whole undertaking had begun to take on a decidedly illogical air.

After a while Orson became tired of bickering with him, so she went to sleep. Casey had also taken the opportunity to fall asleep while he'd been distracted by her crewmember. Annoyed at his companions' boorish tendencies, he burrowed into his blankets and reluctantly followed their example.

XXXXXX

He was roused by a "Goddammit, Jim!" Kirk was having trouble waking up. It felt like that time he'd gone 37 hours without sleep then dozed off at his desk. McCoy'd prodded him awake after half an hour, just in time for his Starfleet History exam. Waking up now felt like waking up then, except he wasn't sleep deprived. Was he?

McCoy hadn't stopped talking since the aforementioned expletive had left his mouth. As Kirk's consciousness reassembled itself, he began to gather that the rant had something to do with how high he'd turned up his electric blankets. They can't have been that high, though, because he was so freaking cold.

The doctor tugged a bit at the blankets and Kirk protested when his cocoon was breached by cool air. Wait, how was it possible for him to be even colder? His eyes flew open.

"Should've comm'd me why doesn't anyone ever comm me when they don't feel well idiot captain there's a reason why I put it on that setting I—"

"Bones?" His throat didn't seem to be working so well. He tried to clear it and experienced limited success. "What's going on?" He rasped.

"Kid, I really, really want to know where your immune system's gone, because it's not here." The concern in his friend's voice was obvious.

"Gone?" Monosyllables were the way to go, he decided.

"Yeah, gone. It hadn't done anything about the pathogen that's currently cooling your blood stream. You're worse off than either of the others. Casey fought it off in her sleep, and Orson is heading in the same direction. You, on the other hand, aren't getting better. My best guess is that it's something bacterial that was thawed when they camped out on the asteroid, but how the hell bacteria happened to get frozen on that lump of space rock is beyond me. Spock's looking into it." McCoy paused. "He's really worried, but he won't admit it." He seemed to reconsider how utterly lacking in reassurance his words had been. "But you're gonna be fine, Jim. We'll figure this out."

Kirk sighed and tried to burrow his way back under the covers.

"Oh no you don't." the doctor said, grabbing at his shoulder. "It was way too difficult waking you up this time. I'm going to pump you full of immune boosters and antibacterials, and then I'm gonna get someone to sit with you and poke you every time you so much as close your eyes."

"Boooones." Kirk whined.

"Tough luck, kid. Hang in there."

XXXXXX

Someone with ice-cold fingers was holding Kirk's hand. This had been going on for a while, but he hadn't been able to wake up enough to complain. He was stuck in the disorienting limbo that results in being allowed to drowse but not sleep. And this new person was crafty. Whoever it was would wait exactly, precisely, until Kirk managed to fall into a proper sleep, and then poke him. This way, he was never awake enough to protest the prodding when it happened.

His hand was really freaking cold. What if he got frostbite? He tried to move his fingers, but he couldn't tell if he couldn't feel them moving, or if he hadn't put enough effort into getting them to move. Why'd he think it was a hand holding his, anyway? It was obviously a block of ice. Why was he holding a block of ice? Maybe it was a practical joke. But Bones never did practical jokes, and who else would be in their quarters? It didn't feel much like a practical joke, anyway. It felt like a mean joke.

Fuck, why couldn't he feel his hand?

The mounting panic began to cut through the haze in his mind. Someone began to shake him and say his name.

"Jim, wake up. I do not understand what is disturbing your mind so greatly. Please wake up." The voice pleaded.

Kirk roused himself and flailed ineffectually at the blankets covering his head. At some point he'd burrowed under the covers, and now he was having trouble finding his way out again. The other person helped him.

"Spock?" He rasped, voice rusty from lack of use.

"May I inquire as to the source of your panic, Captain?" Spock was leaning closer than, Kirk thought, was strictly necessary.

"I…I thought…" he trailed off. What had he thought? "I think I thought that I couldn't feel my hand?"

"Which hand?"

"My left one." Spock frowned.

"And why did you think that you could not feel it?"

"It was really cold." Kirk squinted, attempting to remember what the hell had been going through his mind. Spock was looking embarrassed, if that was possible.

"I believe that the fault is mine, Captain. I had been utilizing touch telepathy to ensure that you did not fall unconscious against the doctor's wishes." There was something he was missing here. What was it? Ah.

"Spock, if you were reading my mind, why'd you ask me what was wrong? Didn't you know?" Spock winced. Slightly.

"I was not 'reading your mind,' Captain." He corrected. "I was merely monitoring your level of consciousness. Anything more would have been a vast invasion of privacy." Kirk's eyebrows drew together in thought.

"That doesn't explain why my hand was so cold, though."

"It does. Did you pay no attention to your xenobiology class? Vulcans have an average internal temperature of 32.8 Celsius. As your body temperature has already been reduced by the bacterial infection, it is no surprise that you are more sensitive to the difference between our respective temperatures."

"I thought I was running a temperature. Isn't that why I was delirious?"

"You are not delirious, Captain. Your temperature, at its lowest, was 34.9 degrees Celsius. You are suffering from hypothermia. One of the typical symptoms is mental confusion. Fortuitously, we have identified the pathogen as a type of Andorian bacteria, and so have been able to commence treatment. I believe this treatment is what is responsible for your current lucidity." Kirk snorted.

"That still doesn't explain to me why I got so cold, though. Shouldn't I be running a temperature to fight it off?" Wait; hadn't Bones said something about his immune system?

"On the contrary, Captain. This is a singularly fascinating strain of bacteria. Andorians, as you are probably not aware, have an average body temperature of 42 degrees Celsius. The bacteria works most effectively at a range from 38.2 to 40.1 degrees, so it inhibits the host's immune response and ability to regulate internal temperature so as to create a more suitable environment for itself. Paradoxically, this is what allowed the other two who were infected to recover so easily; the bacteria lowered their body temperature enough that it created an environment that was unsuitable for its functioning. Also, as they were not Andorian, their immune systems were only partially suppressed. Once the bacteria were weakened, it was easy enough for their immune systems to destroy what was left of the infection." Kirk winced.

"And what went wrong in my case?"

"Doctor McCoy has informed me that your immune system is especially irrational in most of its functioning. It reacts strongly to common allergens which would normally present no threat to your wellbeing, and it presents no response when failure to respond might result in death." _Puny Human and your illogical immune system!_ Kirk added in his head.

The silence stretched.

"So," Kirk said slowly, "When'll McCoy clear me for duty?" He could tell that Spock was smiling at that. It was all in the eyes.

"It is a pleasure to have you back, Captain."

XXXXXX

The captain was the only member of the Enterprise's crew to fall ill. That is not to say that the rest of the crew was unaffected, though. Even if the captain was not known to them personally, the prospect of his illness and possible death was a stressful one.

Admiral Pike, experienced captain that he was, recognized this. He also recognized that the prospect of shore leave could be used as a bargaining chip.

"The only condition is _what_?" Kirk said with equal parts disbelief and outrage.

"They need judges." Pike shrugged. "We'll be killing two birds with one stone. You're a decorated captain, and you're not emotionally invested in the contest. While there, the rest of your crew gets shore leave. It's perfect."

"You just said it! I'm a decorated starship captain! I'm not a judge for Federation Idol!" Pike gave him a look which clearly said that Kirk was being childish.

"I've already told you, it's called Federation Star. And I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this. It'll be fun, I'm sure." That was delivered in a less-than-convincing tone of voice.

"I've gotta go on TV and talk about…whatever they do in a talent show? I don't know the first thing about singing and dancing and juggling—actually, I do know a thing about juggling. But not the other stuff." If he'd been given some advance warning, Kirk was sure that he would have been able to find a multitude of eloquent objections to Pike's plan. As it was, he couldn't take the idea seriously enough to come up with anything more nuanced. And Spock, from his suspicious lack of comments, seemed to be enjoying Kirk's discomfiture. Along with the rest of the bridge crew.

"Captain," Pike said, and Kirk knew that the argument was lost. "Am I to understand that you are denying your crew shore leave simply because you are afraid of having your ignorance of all things 'singing and dancing' exposed?" Kirk groaned. It was a straw man argument if he'd ever seen one, but 'I just don't want to' wasn't going to cut it. He hung his head in defeat.

"I'll do it." He muttered.

"What was that?" Pike maliciously cocked his head as though he'd had trouble hearing Kirk. "I'm afraid you'll have to repeat it."

"I'll do it, I'll do it." Kirk waved his hand at the screen. "Just as soon as we get rid of those asteroid groupies you made us pick up. I swear, you'll be the death of me, Admiral." Pike raised an eyebrow.

"Asteroid groupies? Really? I know one of them sneezed on you, but it can't have been too bad. As far as I'm concerned, you're looking quite…lively." Kirk laughed darkly.

"Don't let Bones hear you say that."

"Indeed, Admiral." Spock stepped forward. "I concur with the captain's statement. He was in great danger for 5.29 Standard hours. It is not something which should be taken lightly." The admiral sat up a bit and adjusted his expression to one of more suitable gravity.

"Yes, Commander. I am fully aware of how serious the infection was. However, as Captain Kirk is fully recovered, I do not see any reason that he should be treated any differently or allowed any more snarky comments about Federation scientists carrying out important experiments." Kirk and Spock looked at each other. They'd hit a nerve with the admiral, but Kirk wasn't sure what it was that'd set him off. He tended to be flippant and irreverent whenever he spoke to Pike; he hadn't used the term 'asteroid groupies' snarkily. Had he?

"Noted, Admiral." Kirk said, acquiring a similarly solemn countenance. "After we drop off the _important Federation scientists_ at Space Station 10, we will make our way to Lancre for shore leave and talent shows." Pike nodded sharply.

"Pike out." And the viewscreen went blank.

Kirk made eye contact with some members of his bridge crew, and was gratified to see that they were just as confused as he felt.

XXXXXX

Federation Star wasn't like the average talent shows you'd find while channel surfing. For those, contestants were generally self-nominated, and they were in it for personal glory and fame. Federation Star was a bit more political. The rules for qualifying were many and varied. They had a couple fleet judges and a flotilla of lawyers standing by to argue their decisions in court. Because according to the rules, to enter, the person/group/act had to be sponsored by a 'Federation recognized governing body and sovereign state of reasonable size.' The definitions of 'reasonable size' occupied several hundred pages and had sections for each planet designation (square meters), space stations (cubed meters, with a discount of any space not rated as 'living'), population (for any space ships which manage to become sovereign), and alien species (as the smaller ones complained that using 'square meters' was speciesist). Occasionally loopholes were found (or argued in court), which resulted in a bizarre mishmash of sponsoring states.

Plus, the whole point of sponsoring an act was so that it'd be representative of the sponsor's culture, so the acts themselves also involved a bizarre mishmash of talents.

Kirk thought that this either sounded like a hilarious opportunity to watch aliens and people make fools of themselves, or else a diplomatic incident waiting to happen. The sinking feeling in his stomach was voting for the latter outcome.

Why the hell had Pike thought that this would be a good idea?

XXXXXX

The reporters wanted interviews with Kirk. He was pretty sure that he wasn't supposed to say 'yes'. As far as Starfleet was concerned, that's what press releases were for.

He'd forgotten that he was, essentially, traveling in a gigantic tour bus full of celebrities as far as the civilian population of the universe was concerned. For almost the whole time he'd been captain of the Enterprise, he'd had contact with no one but military personnel, militarily affiliated personnel, and aliens who were kind of out of the loop.

He quickly realized that fame (as opposed to infamy, which he was very familiar with) gave him an uncomfortable feeling.

He had Spock help him plan (Dress uniform? Security detail? How do I avoid making an ass of myself?), and his first officer was, unsurprisingly, very helpful. He had the bright idea of calling up lists of former judges, and easily broke the names into two categories; celebrities and diplomats. The celebrities tended to dress down while diplomats invariably wore suits (or whatever passed for conservative formal wear in their culture). Kirk knew that he belonged in the former group, but he and Spock agreed that it would be better for the career he was trying to follow if he associated with the diplomats. "Dress uniform, it is." Kirk muttered.

After some discussion with the event coordinators, they decided that Kirk could beam down to a dressing room to avoid the paparazzi outside of the stadium.

Spock even had some pointers to give Kirk for how to evaluate a performance as objectively as possible. Instinctively, Kirk would probably favor presentations prepared by Humans, as he'd be able to understand and appreciate more of the cultural subtleties. The half-Vulcan had some ideas of what to look for in acts performed by other species.

In all, it left him feeling amazingly calm about the whole ordeal.


	6. In Which The Show Does Not Go On

AN: Not sure what to say, this time. Apologies to those looking for more on Federation Star. Kirk wasn't interested enough to warrant a more thorough examination. :D

Anyway, muchas gracias to my readers and reviewers. You guys have good questions! Entonces, on with the story….

/AN

In Which The Show Does Not Go On

Kirk met the rest of the beings making up the panel of judges. Perhaps recognizing the ill effects of low blood sugar on the judges' decisions, the event coordinators had provided them with an extensive buffet. To Kirk's surprise, Spock's mother was there. He gathered (from talking to some of the others on the panel) that the coordinators of Federation Star had wanted a Vulcan member, and that she was the closest they could get. She'd been volunteering for the position every other year for almost two decades.

So he wandered; did the diplomat thing with the diplomats, smiled politely while the celebrities told him about his own exploits (heavily embroidered by rumor and hearsay, of course). One even insisted that Kirk had personally saved the Vulcan elders, only after he'd singly taken out the drill, but before he'd out-logicked a Vulcan for control of the Enterprise. She didn't get it when he protested that he'd 'out-emotioned' the Vulcan, instead.

The diplomats were their own brand of not-fun. They asked him for opinions on complicated current issues that he wasn't even aware existed. Considering the options, and that Spock's mother was the only person there with whom he was acquainted with at all, it was no surprise that he found himself gravitating towards her. Then he would remember the nature of the impression that he must have made, and he would reconsider every time he got within hailing distance.

This continued for approximately 45 minutes, by Kirk's reckoning.

It wasn't until she saved him from being talked at by the argumentative former Tellaritie ambassador to Andoria that they truly came face to face. She politely interrupted the ambassador, implied that someone of great importance wanted to speak with Kirk, and directed the Tellaritie's attention to an ex-colleague of his with whom he had less than amicable relations.

Kirk was left alone with Spock's mother.

He fidgeted. She chuckled.

"I don't believe we were ever properly introduced. I'm Amanda Greyson, wife of Ambassador Sarek, mother of your first officer, Spock." She held out her hand in the Human manner. Kirk blushed.

"Of course." He said, shaking her hand. "It, it's good to meet you. I'm Jim Kirk." No title, not even a middle initial. This woman had single-handedly done what almost driving off a cliff in a car and subsequently being accosted by a Robocop had not been able to do. When he was eleven.

"Yes, I know who you are. You've been avoiding me. I wonder why that is." She said it with such a playful air, in such a lightly teasing tone, that he could feel his face heating up again.

"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me." He answered truthfully.

"And why ever would you think that?" Was there menace in her tone? He couldn't tell. Oh man, he'd take a hundred ex-Tellaritie ambassadors over having this conversation. She was Spock's mother! She'd been on the ship—unconscious, some rocks had fallen on her as she had exited the Katric Ark, but she'd been far enough through the entrance that they could still beam her up—when he'd emotionally compromised her son. Hell, he'd even used her injuries to make it happen. Which she was probably very aware of.

His mind was blank…and then something in her expression changed. It was slight. Was it…she'd quirked her eyebrow. It was just a second, but it was slight. The gesture reminded him so much of Spock that he found himself relaxing before he'd even processed what he'd seen. Kirk smiled at the mother of his first officer.

"Because, using your injuries as fodder, I emotionally compromised your son and wrested control of the Enterprise from him?" Innocent tone. Check. Solemn face. Check. Ms. Greyson looking more interested in this conversation than she'd seemed all morning? Oh yes.

"Ah, I'd forgotten about that. It wasn't very nice of you, was it?" She wasn't smiling, but within the indignation was a teasing undercurrent.

"Oh no, it was terrible. I think he got me back—partially, at least—when he strangled me. Wouldn't you agree?" She frowned.

"Yes, actually, I think I would. You both were forced into doing something you found abhorrent for the sake of 'the greater good.' Though I can't say I like that term much." A chill ran down Kirk's back. Was it just him, or had the conversation taken an abruptly dark turn? Then again, that phrase 'the greater good' always brought up bad memories.

"I agree with you on all counts, ma'am."

"Call me Amanda."

"No—" he said, then sniggered. Amanda raised both eyebrows in an entirely Human expression of consternation.

"Is there something funny about my name?" She asked, amused.

"No, not you name. The, um, the pattern the conversation was taking. It's familiar." He explained lamely.

"That explains everything." She deadpanned.

"No, actually—huh, I might as well tell you. It's something I asked Spock a while ago; I asked him to call me 'Jim.' He refused, just like I was going to. I remember the arguments I used to try to convince him, and I just realized that if I don't call you 'Amanda' then I'm a hypocrite. I wouldn't want to be a hypocrite on top of an emotional compromiser, so it's your win. Amanda." He smiled. She looked slightly confused by the information dump she'd just received.

"You've asked my son to call you by your first name?"

"Yep. I've done it a few times, actually. But he kept shooting me down, and it wasn't really important that he do it, anyway, so I've stopped asking."

"Why did you keep asking if it wasn't important?" She said it with more intensity than Kirk thought the conversation warranted.

"Because I was bored. Because I wanted to see if he'd do it. Because it's a reflex." _Because he will, sometime in the future_. Kirk shrugged. "When I first became captain, it felt so weird to have people calling me by my title all the time. It felt awkward. Hell, I was probably a bit insecure, so I didn't _want_ to get used to it in case it didn't last. But I knew, intellectually, that I had to get used to hearing it. So I didn't ask anyone to call me by my first name, and no one but Bones—that's what I call my CMO, actually, you probably met him, kind of grouchy guy?—did. And now, it doesn't bother me when people call me 'captain' even when we're off duty. I correct them when I remember, but more often we all forget." He laughed at himself. "That was probably more information than you needed. But," here he looked at her expression, and the intensity was still there, "maybe not as much as you wanted." Her mouth quirked.

"Wants and needs, Captain Kirk. There's something that Vulcans say about other species; _needs are forever, wants are illogical._" She nodded in a way that so forcibly reminded Kirk of the Souflakti's nod/bow that he found himself returning it instinctively. "It was good to speak with you. Live long and prosper." Here she held up the traditional Vulcan salutation/valediction. Kirk had seen it done before, and so he had no trouble copying her.

"Live long and prosper." He murmured.

XXXXXX

He made it to the actual show without being cornered by anyone too clingy, and found himself sitting between two females who wanted to talk to each other much more than they wanted to talk to him. He'd offered to switch seats, but they'd been assigned alphabetically by last name (_what is this, elementary school?_) and the women had refused his offer.

The time passed in that bizarre manner which is both fast-paced and, at the same time, unbearably lethargic particular to events where there is always something to watch, but nothing interesting (according to the watcher) to see. Despite Spock's tutelage, for most of the acts Kirk had no clue what was going on. One performance looked like an elaborate game of charades, except even the people guessing had to act out their answers. Kirk suspected that he would have understood better if the République Populaire de Personnes Sourdes did not speak French as their primary language. 'Three syllables, sounds like cheese' would get him nowhere, as he had no idea what three-syllable words there were that rhymed with 'fromage.'

Another act consisted of twenty people standing on the stage whistling.

Yet another was put on by an Andorian group. Each member started out with a block of ice approximately half a meter cubed. Within ten minutes each had reduced the ice to a complicated-looking puzzle piece. When fitted together, they made a replica of some building Kirk didn't recognize.

The Vulcans had sponsored an act (perhaps they felt that a show of solidarity with the Federation was called for), which was just one Vulcan, standing in the middle of the stage, reading something (A dissertation? Poetry?) in a language that Kirk knew conclusively was not standard Vulcan. Any other bets were off.

A group of Tellarites argued.

Before he knew it (but still not soon enough), the stage had cleared in preparation for the penultimate act. The lights went out, plunging the auditorium into darkness that was unalleviated by the dim guide-lights on the ramp ways. The crowd hushed. _The sponsor of this act must be a popular one, _he thought. Usually you got at least a few competitive 'boo's. The silence stretched, and he could hear a few people fidgeting. Then all went quiet again. He fidgeted. It felt like time was slowing down. Slow, slow, slow. Impatient, he looked at the time on his comm. It had stopped.

He grabbed a PADD from his pocket. It was unresponsive.

He couldn't help himself; he burst into laughter. Was this the universe's idea of a metaphor? Poetic justice, maybe?

Then a moment of _ohshit_ panic dropped over him. Was Spock still on the Enterprise? He could deal with everything else; navigating his way out of a completely dark and possibly locked building, finding Spock's location in the gigantic, multistoried city—but not with the possibility that he wasn't here to find.

To keep his mind from completely focusing on the one undesirable prospect, he drew up a plan of action. Out loud.

"First, get out of this fucking building. Easier said than done. What's with advanced civilizations and electric doors? Completely illogical. Have we become so helpless that turning a doorknob is an unreasonable thing to ask of most people? I sincerely hope not. Get out of this building—"he was cut off as he, in his careless rush to the back of the auditorium, ran into a railing and flipped over. Physically, he was fine, but now he was a little disoriented. "Where the hell'd that come from? Anyway, once I get out of here, I need to get up somewhere really high. No, maybe I don't need somewhere high—there was that really echo-y piazza thing they took us through on the way here. That'd work, I think. Start shouting, see if Spock shouts back. Simple. Elegant. I like it. Fucking locked doors." This was going to be just as complicated as he'd suspected.

XXXXXX

He eventually found a point of egress in the ceiling. He managed to fall off of the lighting rafters a total of once before he discovered the escape hatch. The experience was almost enough to put him off heights forever. The feeling of falling, not knowing which way was up or how far away the ground way…actually, he reflected, it would probably put him off zero-gravity simulators, and possibly darkened rooms. But not heights.

It was night out, but Federation Star was being hosted in one of the manifold cities which had the designation 'that never sleeps' added to it. This one had taken never-sleeping to a new high by installing an untold number of lamps which mimicked both the color and intensity of Lancre's sun. So, despite the fact that Kirk was standing on the roof of an arena at night, he had to squint.

Well, no time like the present to put his plan into action.

He checked his comm to make sure he wasn't going to be arrested for noise violations, and then started yelling.

XXXXXX

"Well," he remarked sourly, "we've discovered something else which, when engaged in while in Safe Mode, does not result in physical harm." This was Spockspeak for _I yelled my head off and didn't get a sore throat_. And this was also said using the royal 'we'; he hadn't been able to locate his friend.

What was there to do? He could climb buildings. That might be interesting. A little voice in the back of his head mentioned that it might not be such a good idea, because he never knew when Safe Mode would end. Since when did his subconscious get so responsible? Since Spock, that's when.

The thought of his first officer brought up a debilitating wave of panic and cold resignation. Since when was he this needy? Since Spock, that's when.

Damn it, this wasn't going anywhere. Well, nowhere good. If Bones could hear him now, he'd probably sign Kirk up for a psych eval and make him go to co-dependency counseling. Bones—now, that was a safe topic, wasn't it? He did feel a bit guilty about spending less time with his friend, but he'd noticed that McCoy had struck up friendships with a surprising (to Kirk, at least) number of women on board the ship since Kirk had stopped taking up all of his off-duty time. This made him wonder whether McCoy'd wanted to date more while in the Academy, but he'd had his hands full with taking care of Jim Kirk.

That wasn't the nicest of thoughts (though maybe it meant that his neediness predated Spock?), but at least now McCoy had the freedom to become the social butterfly he'd always wanted to be.

Kirk laughed at himself. Social butterfly? McCoy? Well, stranger things had happened.

With that thought, he went off to find a building to climb.

XXXXXX

He hadn't learned how to climb on buildings (_don't think about that)_ but some of the skyscrapers had this faux rock stuff sprayed on to make them look like they'd been build out of blocks of granite no one had bothered to carve. It was really easy, especially because he didn't have to worry about getting tired halfway through.

Or maybe he did. Spock would say that clinging to the outer wall of the 30th floor of a skyscraper would not be the best position to find oneself in when time resumes. But Spock wasn't here. "Fuck you, Spock." He muttered. Hmm…that was somewhat cathartic. He continued his rant, rising in volume as he rose in altitude, attacking anything and everyone within reach. He ran out of words around the 67th floor and paused, gathering his thoughts. That's when he heard it: "Captain?"

The sound was a bit faint, but the identity of the speaker was unmistakable. Kirk pushed himself off the side of the building. He partially hit a bench when he landed, and was sent tumbling halfway across the street. He probably could have made it all the way if a frozen car hadn't placed itself in his path. Slightly disoriented from the acrobatics, it took him a minute to set eyes on Spock. It helped that his first officer was approaching him at an unusually fast clip. In one motion he picked himself up and propelled himself into Spock, hugging him with all his strength.

"Captain—"Spock said, startled.

"Shut up, I'm an illogical Human and I need illogical comfort. Just give me a moment." Kirk was awkwardly patted on the back. Where'd he learn that; 'Comforting Emotional Aliens, 101'?

Kirk sighed and disengaged himself from his friend. "You have no idea, Spock. None. Last time I was stuck on an alien world during a freeze I climbed cliffs and read the complete works of Shakespeare." Kirk shuddered. "It completely put me off Shakespeare." Spock raised an eyebrow, and Kirk could have sobbed with relief.

"I take it from your implications that you associate negative emotions with that 'alien world'?"

"Hell yes. D'you want to hear about it?" Spock tilted his head, sensing that something was off.

"I believe that you are not actually asking me whether I want to hear about it, but rather whether I would be willing to listen. And Captain?" Kirk didn't want to look at Spock, but he made himself. It was a good thing he did, because the warmth in his friend's face made him feel calmer than he had in a while. "I am, and will always be, willing to listen."

Kirk's jaw dropped.

XXXXXX

Kirk was fairly sure that Spock must have met his older counterpart sometime during the massive reshuffling of Vulcans that occurred after their planet imploded. But it was better he didn't chance it. Also, Vulcan or no Vulcan, it would have to be massively creepy to find out that you'd just unconsciously parroted something that had been said by the alternate version of you from another timeline. So Kirk pretended that he didn't know what Spock was taking about when he asked about 'that expression' on his face, and insisted on leading the way to a park he'd found. His first officer knew that something was up, but he seemed content to let it slide. For now.

On the way there, Kirk asked, "So, where were you? I was afraid that you were stuck on the Enterprise."

"Had the universe frozen 1.3 minutes before it did, I would have been. As it was, I had beamed down to the planet to mediate an argument which was taking place between some crew members and an officer of the law." Kirk frowned.

"I hope it wasn't anything serious. Shore leave's barely begun." Spock shook his head in a way that indicated how tiringly unreasonable he found the whole situation to be.

"I do not believe it was. The reports I received were conflicting and lacking in detail, but from what I could gather Ensigns Lacriox, Gerling, and Wirtinger were inebriated. They came to be in possession of a substance they referred to as 'sidewalk chalk.' Using this substance, they proceeded to draw on the pedestrian walkways of Weyr Park. The officer informed them that they were to cease their actions, as it could be viewed as vandalism of public property. The Ensigns protested this charge, and were told that if they used a nearby hose to wash the chalk away, they would not be arrested. They refused, stating that their graffiti was a 'work of art.' They were subsequently detained." Kirk rolled his eyes.

"Sidewalk chalk? I would really like to know where they got that stuff from."

"It is most curious, but not the most pressing facet of the problem." Spock agreed.

They reached the park. Kirk elected to sit on the rim of the fountain. Spock joined him. Then he decided that, considering what he was about to talk about, he'd rather be facing his companion. So he turned and sat cross-legged on the rim. After a moment's hesitation Spock copied him.

The silence stretched as Kirk tried to figure out how to begin. So he decided to start with that.

"I've never told anyone about this. Well, never told anyone voluntarily. Part of the reason is that I just don't want to talk about it. Part of the reason is that Safe Mode played a big part in my survival, and if I invite people to ask me about it then I'll have to lie and conceal what happened, or I'll have to tell them the truth and have them think I suffered a psychotic break. Neither option seemed that good." He paused in thought.

"Are you familiar with the disaster of Tarsus IV?" Spock's eyes widened, and there was a slight release in the tension of his jaw which probably translated into a jaw drop in Vulcan terms.

"I take it you are, then. Ok, so, summary of my life. After my father died, Mom took a job working on the shipyard in Iowa. Our grandmother on Mom's side moved in and helped take care of us. Uhh, here, us means my brother and me. Actually, she probably helped take care of Mom, too. But she was pretty old; she'd had Mom when she was in her late thirties, and Mom was thirty one when she had me. And, well…I wasn't a troublemaker back then, but Sam was. He was too much for Grandma to handle. Then Mom started to date this guy, Frank, and that just sent Sam over the edge. He was old enough to remember our father, a little bit, and didn't like seeing his place be taken." Kirk paused, considering.

"Also, Frank was a slug. That helped. So Sam ran away and I—"he grimaced, "That's a story for another time. Tarsus. Right. Everything fell apart. I became the troublemaker after that. The stress of living with us was making Grandma sick, so she moved out. Frank didn't want to deal with me, and I think Mom got fed up with us griping about each other. She kicked Frank out, but everything was too broken. She never liked Iowa, anyway. I don't know. Now that I'm older, I can see that my mom wasn't really the type of person who's content to stay at home and watch the kids. She's actually really smart, and she missed the life she had before my dad died. So she somehow talked her brother, who was living with his family on this promising new colony, into taking me in while she traveled the universe. So, I take it you know about the crop blight, governor Kodos, all that?" Spock nodded reluctantly.

"Ok, then I don't need to tell you about that." He sighed. "And really, Safe Mode wasn't just a big contributor to my survival. It was _the_ reason for my survival. My whole family was designated for…for execution. I didn't know this until a while later, though. They called all of the people Kodos had decided were worth saving to this meeting thing in town. With them out of their houses, the militia could cordon off whole neighborhoods. I was the one who answered the door when they knocked. We didn't have a clue what hit us. A man and a woman stormed in, armed with guns, and rounded up the whole family. I think they would have shot us on sight, but they had to account for everyone. I remember that the woman was holding a PADD and comparing us to our citizenship pictures. Then the man held a gun to my head and everyone froze. It felt like it took me forever—it always does, doesn't it—to realize what had happened. For a while I wouldn't even leave the room. If I left, I couldn't be sure that time wouldn't unfreeze while I was gone, and I wanted to be there to distract the militia from killing my family. But nothing changed. In the end, I settled for booby trapping them." Spock looked curious, so Kirk elaborated.

"I got whatever heavy stuff I could find and attached it to the guns. I covered the militia people with blankets and tied scarves around their eyes. I even stuffed some junk—tissues, pencils, whatever—down the barrels of the guns. I still wanted to hang around and wait, though. Hence the Shakespeare. My aunt was really weird. I don't know why an anthology of Shakespeare was the only physical book she had in the house, but it was. So I read Shakespeare."

"You did not attempt to escape?" Spock asked. Kirk chewed his lip and thought.

"No. Not at first. I didn't think of it as an opportunity to get away and hide. It didn't occur to me that I could. It just felt so…I mean, they were my family. I'd been really happy living with them, and my uncle had been more patient with me than anyone else. I wanted to save them, too. But I finished the book, and there was nothing to do but read it again and keep waiting for time to resume and my family to be killed. Because, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that, no matter what I did to the militia people in my house, there were hundreds more outside. I could see them out the windows, waiting. For almost the whole freeze, I'd been sitting in the same room, looking at people pointing guns at my family. It was hopeless. The outcome was inevitable. I'd already imagined every possible scenario, every way this scene could play out. And I never saved them. Something changed in an instant, and I couldn't remain in the house any longer. There was something itching under my skin, and every time I moved my head I thought I saw one of the militia people twitch. I just couldn't stand it. I grabbed the book and ran. Once I was out on the street, I noticed that I could tell which houses belonged to the people slated for execution because their doors were open. That's when it really sunk in that I had to do something, plan something, or else I'd be caught when Safe Mode ended."

He stopped. Spock gave him an encouraging look. Kirk shrugged.

"There isn't much to say, except to tell you how fucking much I like old-fashioned door knobs." Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Somehow, I have the feeling that there is a bit more to the story than that." Kirk laughed bitterly.

"I learned to pick locks. I broke into the houses of the people favored by Kodos and stole as much food as I could get. I loaded it into a wheel barrow with rope and a sleeping bag and stuff. Then I just walked away. Holed up in a cave, spent the rest of the freeze learning to free climb. Once time resumed, I stayed there till my food was gone. I snuck back to the town, found out that Starfleet had been there for the past three days." Kirk sat still, thinking. "The end." He concluded.

"Captain, I highly doubt that it was as simple or as easy as you make it seem." Spock commented.

"Of course it wasn't. My family was dead, and I'd survived by stealing food and hanging out in a cave. I'd been living in my mind for so long that, for a while, I couldn't distinguish between what I should tell people and what I should keep to myself. Hell, I'd spent so much time thinging about my family's deaths that a few times I insisted that I'd been there when they were shot. And I told them that I'd seen Kodos, because I had. I'd gone into town before I stole all the food and holed up in the cave. I'd needed to know what was going on. I broke into the building the meeting was taking place in. It wasn't much more than a barn with a platform at one end. I saw the bastard, standing on the stage. He was standing behind a screen so that nobody could really see him. Who did he think he was, the Wizard of Oz? If that doesn't speak of his guilt, I don't know what does. He knew that what he was doing was so wrong that he didn't want anyone to be able to identify him.

"And you know that famous proclamation he made, about the revolution being successful? I read it off the PADD connected to the fucking teleprompter he was reading off of. A teleprompter! He was announcing his decision to murder half the people on the planet, and he couldn't keep the words in his head long enough to say them without help.

"So, they wanted to know when I'd seen Kodos, and I said during his speech. They asked how I managed to be there when it happened. I realized my mistake and recanted, but not before I'd given them a description that matched well with the other people who'd seen him. They labeled me as a difficult and traumatized child and sent me to Iowa. Mom had been so horrified to hear what had happened that she resigned from Starfleet. So, yeah." They sat in silence. Spock shifted slightly.

"It was fortuitous that time froze when it did." He commented. Kirk, who'd been lost in his own memories, started.

"What?"

"I was stating my gladness at the timing of the freeze when you were on Tarsus IV. If it hadn't," here Spock actually paused, as though processing a difficult emotion, "I could not say what my life would be like today, or even whether I would have survived the Narada crisis. Speculation is useless. But I know that I would not prefer it to my current existence in any way." Kirk smiled. It was small, but it was genuine.

"Thank you, Spock."


	7. In Which The Captain Climbs The Walls

AN: Danke to all my readers and reviewers! Seriously you guys, you are the awesomeness.

/AN

In Which The Captain Climbs The Walls

They explored the city. On his own, Kirk would not have had the patience for it. But with Spock as his companion everything seemed more entertaining. They would hold discussions to make the smallest decision, and then argue their respective sides as though life and death depended on it. Presented with the option of walking either left or right at an intersection, Kirk would vote for left because more people were facing in that direction. Spock would vote for right because it would mean that they'd completed one square of a grid-search pattern. Kirk made the mistake of proposing rock/paper/scissors as a tiebreaker. The illogicality of the game annoyed Spock so greatly that, with Kirk's help, the discussion devolved into a sparring match.

This gave Kirk an idea.

XXXXXX

"No, Captain." Spock said, eyebrows drawing together in consternation.

"Yes!"

"I will not use my superior strength to propel you into the air and over this wall."

"Why not?"

"Because it is unnecessary. Because it could be dangerous." He paused in thought. "Because, if time resumes while we are within the perimeter, it is quite possible that we will be shot on sight."

"Really?" Kirk asked, subdued.

"Really, Captain." When had the half-Vulcan acquired such a sarcastic tone of voice? "The Prime Minister of Lancre has survived three assassination attempts during his nine-year tenure. I believe the term is 'discharge your weapon initially, make enquiries posthumously.'" Kirk's eyes widened.

"You can't be serious." Spock nodded gravely.

"I am quite serious. It is a barbarous custom, but it was created in response to barbarous stimuli. I do not agree with it, but it has a certain logic to it." Kirk stared at the solemn expression on his companion's face, and then burst into laughter. Spock huffed slightly, insulted that he was being laughed at when he'd been completely serious.

"I'm sorry Spock, but I can easily imagine that the guards would shoot us on sight. It was your _paraphrase_," he said the word with relish, "of the common expression 'shoot first, ask questions later' that I didn't believe."

"Unlike when you paraphrase, _Captain_, I remained true to the original spirit of the phrase." Spock objected.

"So, you admit that you paraphrased something?" Kirk leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

"I, yes, as I did paraphrase, it would be illogical of me to claim otherwise." Spock's voice sounded like defeat, but he still looked pissed.

Kirk grinned at him. "Excellent."

XXXXXX

"Captain?"

"Yes, Spock?"

"Might I make a query?" They'd found a building that had frozen with its doors partially open. Kirk had insisted that they explore, and after Spock had ascertained that there were not any belligerent-looking guards, he's assented. It seemed to be a kind of giant antique emporium. Spock had visually dated a couple pieces from familiar cultures, and Kirk had persuaded him into taking a seat on some ancient furniture. After all, it wasn't like they'd be able to break them while in Safe Mode.

"Discharge your weapon." Kirk replied, and then glanced over to see Spock regarding him with an icy-cool gaze. "You know what I mean." Kirk smiled encouragingly.

"I wish I did not." Spock snarked. After a moment of silence, he continued. "Before I located you, I followed the sound of your voice to the building that you were scaling. I could not hear everything you said clearly, but I could hear some of it." He hesitated. Kirk wasn't about to butt in and make things worse. He wanted to know how much had been intelligible. "You said a great number of…less than complimentary things. About many people of your acquaintance." Spock was hesitating and using excessively vague language. This was bad.

"Spock. Spock." At the second repetition of his name, his first officer looked up. "That's not how I feel about any of the people I talked about. I panicked when the world froze and I thought you weren't on the planet. I was…I guess I was using anger to distract myself from everything else. Anger is invigorating, depression is enervating. And I was really close to being depressed." He pursed his lips in thought. Spock still wasn't saying anything.

"Does that make any sense to you? Using one emotion to block out another?" Spock reluctantly nodded.

"Yes." Kirk's eyebrows invited Spock to continue.

"Please do not repeat this to anyone, Captain. Admitting this will, most likely, have me shunned as a Vulcan." Kirk nodded his assent. "All Vulcans have bonds running between family members. Occasionally, even close friends have weak bonds. Also, each Vulcan is bonded spiritually to our home planet. This is why not many of us chose to travel the stars.

"I lack the words to describe what I felt when Vulcan imploded. Almost every bond I had was severed at exactly the same time. Even though my mother had made it off planet, she was injured to such an extent that I was unable to feel her presence.

"You are correct when you describe depression as 'enervating.' I knew that, in the state of despair that I was in, I would not have the strength to command the Enterprise in the ensuing conflict. Then you accosted me. I consciously chose to let myself hear and respond emotionally to the words you were saying. I had hoped to use anger as a tool. I was naïve. Vulcans have no training in using their emotions, only suppressing them. It is not the Vulcan way to use emotions, and in trying I violated the teachings of Surek." Spock hung his head. Kirk snorted. Spock's head rose, with confusion and the beginnings of hurt written on his face.

"Spock, if you're looking for someone to judge you for using emotions to accomplish your goals, don't confide in a Human. We wouldn't be able to get anything done without them." The half-Vulcan frowned, then nodded.

"I had not thought of emotions in that context. We are taught that feelings hinder your ability to function." Kirk shrugged.

"They can be helpful. They can also be something that we have to overcome. But show me a Human who has no emotions, and I'll show you a person who has accomplished nothing noteworthy with his life."

"And I am half Human." Spock murmured.

"Means you can't lose, right?" His companion obviously hadn't understood, so he elaborated.

"Vulcans suppress their emotions, and get tons done. Humans use their emotions, and also get tons done. You've got the best of both worlds." Spock shot him a look that clearly said '_it's not that simple_.' Then his expression softened, with the amendment '_but maybe it could be_.'

XXXXXX

"Hey Spock?"

"Yes, Captain?" Kirk had asked to see the building Spock had had to break out of. It was a government building, so it must have taken some ingenuity. Spock was probably already drafting a report on the weaknesses he had found in the defenses.

"Did I tell you that I met your mom?"

"No, you did not relay this information to me." Kirk narrowed his eyes at Spock.

"Did you know that she was one of the judges for Federation Star?"

"Indeed. I would have been lacking in my duties as a son if I had not been aware of that."

"Spock?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spock did the eyebrow thing which clearly conveyed that he had just been asked an illogical question.

"What would you have done with this knowledge?" Asked the first officer as he led the way around the back of the building.

"Done?"

"Yes Captain, done. If I had imparted this knowledge unto you, would your functioning have been altered in any way? Would you have made a different decision, or reached a more accurate conclusion?" The bastard was mocking him. Kirk rolled his eyes.

"Of course not. But it might have been nice if you'd, I dunno, given me a heads up? Told me whether she was going to eviscerate me for my part in your emotional compromise? Because that, if I'd know _that_ my behavior most certainly would have changed."

"How so?"

"I wouldn't have spent half the meeting avoiding her, for one."

"Only half?" Spock asked curiously.

"She approached me. You know, she asked me to call her Amanda. I tried to refuse, but then I told her about how you wouldn't call me Jim, and I kind of had to."

"How did she reply?"

"I'm not really sure. She seemed interested, but not necessarily about what I was saying. I kept getting the feeling that the things I was saying meant more to her than they did me. She said something to me. It was… 'needs are forever, wants are illogical.'" Spock stopped walking.

"She said that, exactly?"

"Yep." Kirk nodded.

"I meant, you were not paraphrasing or changing the words at all?" _Speaking of unexpected intensity_, Kirk thought.

"Uh, no. Pretty sure that is what she said, verbatim."

"Fascinating." Spock muttered. Kirk sighed.

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Typically, the adage is translated from Vulcan to Standard as so; 'Needs are never-ending, wants are illogical.' It is a comment on how, in other species, needs are confused with wants. 'Never-ending' implies that there are no bounds on 'need,' but in using 'need' in strictly the proper sense, there are. Non-Vulcans tend to claim that they need a great many things which they, in reality, only want. And wanting more than is strictly needed is seen as illogical.

"My mother, on the other hand, used the word 'forever,' which implies a continuous _duration_. 'Never-ending' implies a continuous _amount_ of need. It is most curious, that she would change the words in such a way. I have no doubt that she had a specific purpose in mind." Kirk chewed on his lip.

"Care to speculate, Commander?" Spock recognized the phrase, as Kirk had used it a number of times while on the bridge.

"Not at this time, Captain."

Kirk smiled.

XXXXXX

Kirk was engaging in the entirely speculative pastime of creating life stories for the frozen beings on the street.

"Look at those two holding hands! She's much more into the relationship than he is. They met in a lecture at university. Um…Modern Studies of Ancient Techniques, definitely. They're both wearing knitted scarves, see? She was the one to ask him out—she's a 24th century girl like that. She's always giving him things, but he only reluctantly gives back. He finds her personality to be smothering, and she complains that he never shares his feelings with her. One night soon, after he's left her apartment to go back to his own, she's going to realize how utterly empty the relationship is, and she'll blame the failure on him. She'll drive to his house in the middle of the night and dump red paint all over the bushes, symboliz—" Spock cut him off.

"Captain, you cannot even keep the details that you have created straight. Did you not state that the male lives in an apartment?

"You're right. Huh." Kirk spent a moment in thought. "Somewhere along the way she turned into this girl I dated in high school." He paused again. "Actually, I guess she always was the girl I dated in high school. We met in Home Ec class." He explained.

"Does that mean that the male was representative of yourself?" Spock was watching him attentively.

"Um. I guess so." Kirk admitted reluctantly.

"Speculation, in this case, is unnecessary." Spock stated primly.

"Fine, you win. Yes, he's me. And she really did dump paint on the shrubs. Mom was so pissed." Spock looked closely at the couple on the street.

"Does this female resemble the one from your school?" Kirk laughed.

"Hell no, they're nothing alike."

"And the male does not resemble yourself. Yet you saw your past relationship in them. Why?" Kirk squinted at the people.

"Oh." Spock speared him with an eyebrow. "The…hands. The way they're holding hands. That's the first thing out of my mouth, wasn't it? 'Look at those people holding hands,' something like that. See how she's got all the fingers of her hand wrapped around just two of his? He's not even making an effort to hold on, not committing his whole hand? Exactly how we held hands. I must have noticed it on some level. Perfect metaphor for the relationship, all in the way they hold hands."

Kirk nodded to himself, and Spock looked thoughtful.

XXXXXX

Kirk missed his go board. He'd talked Spock into accompanying him around the city to look for a sandbox to use. Bizarrely for this time of night, many of the playgrounds were in use. He voiced his consternation to Spock, who performed a not-roll with his eyes. Spock proceeded to, using his tone and never-ending vocabulary, imply that Kirk should have done more research about a planet he was being beamed down to. The city was located at a latitude sufficiently extreme that, at this season, more than 75% of a diurnal cycle consisted of darkness. It may have been dark, but it wasn't too late for children to be out.

All of this meant that there were kids in every sandbox they located. Kirk thought briefly of picking the kids up and moving them, but that just seemed mean.

Aside from the lecture on the city, Spock had been strangely quiet. He refused to be drawn into any conversations. Kirk decided that he'd rather have a quiet Spock than no Spock at all, so he shut up. Mostly.

It wasn't until they were sitting on a park bench, Kirk kicking in a discouraged manner at the ground, that the half-Vulcan divulged what had been occupying his mind.

"Captain. I have been cogitating on that relationship you told me about; the one with the volatile female who decorated your bushes against your mother's wishes. May I make a personal query?" Kirk was surprised. Of all the things Spock could have been thinking about, that was the last one he would have guessed.

"Shoot." The look Spock sent him clearly communicated that he was not in the mood for levity.

"Why did you consent to a relationship with her?"

"How do you mean?" He asked.

"You clearly stated that you found her to be 'smothering.' You also implied that you were not invested, in any sense of the word, in the relationship. Why did you consent?" Kirk frowned at Spock. Why was this so important? He sighed and thought back to that highly unpleasant time in his life.

"I guess I wanted a friend." The silence stretched. Obviously Spock wasn't going to let him go with that. "I had a lot of problems after Tarsus IV. Being around so many people at school was overwhelming. I didn't see the point in attending classes, so I didn't. They ended up making me retake the 8th grade because I got suspended so much. So I didn't have any friends, even when I got to high school. I didn't even think I wanted friends until she started to sit next to me in class, ask about my weekend, how I was doing, that sort of thing. And it was…nice, talking to someone. She asked whether I wanted to see a movie with her, and I said yes. It wasn't that hard a decision." Spock was clearly getting more out of the discussion that Kirk thought he was giving away, if considering expression on his face was any indication.

"It does not sound as though you found her company to be uncomfortable." He could hear the question in that statement.

"Not at first. But she was, umm…I think she was one of those girls that want to fix people. And I didn't want to talk about it. Couldn't, really. She'd try to analyze everything I said, to ask me questions that would get me to reveal more than I wanted to. So I said less and less."

"Why did you not end the relationship?"

"I don't think I gave it much, if any, thought. Maybe I didn't have a reason." Kirk shrugged.

"You must have, Captain." Kirk blinked.

"You're really interested in this, aren't you?" Spock had been leaning slightly forward while he questioned Kirk but now he sat back, doing his best robot impression.

"I was curious. That is all." Suddenly, interrogator and interrogatee had switched roles.

"It was more than that, Spock." He didn't budge. "Look, you've listened wonderfully while I told you all about my life. You know you can talk to me, right?"

Spock pursed his lips. Reluctantly, he said, "I could detect some similar themes in my relationship with Lt. Uhura." Kirk sighed.

"Spock. You know Uhura's nothing like that girl."

"Yes, I am aware. I was referring to the inequality in both commitment and emotional attachment."

"Huh." Kirk blinked. "I guess I can see that." Spock's eyebrows drew together.

"You are capable of seeing what, Captain?"

"Uhura told me that she felt that you weren't really interested in her like that."

"When was this?" Spock was asking the question almost before Kirk had finished speaking.

"Not too long ago. We were…actually, we were talking about you. Like Bones, she didn't understand why we were spending so much time together, and she thought I had done something to you." Kirk smiled. "As though I could force you to do anything you didn't want to."

"Indeed." Spock agreed, but the serious atmosphere would not be lifted.

"Spock?"

"Yes?"

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" Spock was silent. Kirk willed himself to sit still.

"You are acquainted with my elder counterpart?" Kirk blinked. _Who's the king of non-sequiturs now?_

"Yeeees?" He said encouragingly. The half-Vulcan seemed disinclined to continue. Kirk pinched himself to keep from fidgeting.

"I met him in the shuttle bay of Starfleet Academy. The first sentence he said to me was, 'I am not a father.' I have spent many hours unproductively reflecting on that utterance. Humans, with their short lives and needy offspring, will generally choose between raising a family or devoting their lives to their career. With Vulcans, this is not so. I cannot say that I desire children, or even that I had planned on procreating sometime in the future. However, in light of the direction that my relationship with Lt. Uhura went, I have to wonder—wholly illogically—whether I ever enter into an affiliation with someone that is mutually fulfilling. Vulcans typically marry for convenience, and I no longer feel that it would satisfy my…" Spock bit his lip as though attempting to keep the words from leaving his mouth, "emotional needs. But Lt. Uhura is a Human." Kirk nodded in understanding.

"And it didn't work out. But you forget; you didn't want a relationship with her in the first place. In other words, it's not a valid sample."

"But I can think of no reason why I should not find a relationship with her to be acceptable." He objected.

"You wanna do this the Human way? Listen to the Human. You can't force these things. You can't use logic to convince yourself that someone is perfect, or even 'acceptable.' It's a very emotional thing." Spock had an unfamiliar expression on his face. Was that a grimace?

"I am not sure that I find that option to be satisfactory, either." Kirk laughed and lightly punched Spock on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, you'll figure something out. As you said, you've got that long Vulcan life ahead of you."

"You are correct." Said Spock, but he did not sound convinced.

XXXXXX

"Hey Spock?"

"Yes?"

"I've noticed something." Kirk said as he searched for his next foothold.

"Would this be that you are incapable of stopping yourself from taking unnecessary risks?" Kirk looked down at his companion's sarcastic eyebrow.

"Wrong. And I have a completely different question for you now. Good job."

"I will answer whatever queries you wish to pose to me, but solely on the condition that you cease climbing trees."

"It's fine! It's a big tree. I'm sure that even if we weren't in Safe Mode it'd be able to support my weight." Spock was unmoved.

"My condition still stands." Then he turned his back on the tree and its occupant.

"Way to be childish, Spock." Kirk muttered, but it wasn't even a whisper. He knew how extraordinarily good Vulcan hearing was. Spock had been distressed the last time he'd exited a tree by jumping, so this time he climbed down carefully. On hearing Kirk's boots touch the ground, Spock turned to face him.

"Ok, so first question. What's up with the eyebrow thing?" The appendage in question rose as though on command. "Once, when we were talking to Pike, I noticed that he does it, too. Did one of you learn it from the other, or was it more of a parallel evolution-type thing?"

"I do not know what you are talking about." Spock looked like he was about to cross his arms, then settled for clasping his hands behind his back.

"Spock, you've got wonderful observational skills. You have to have noticed this."

"And yet, Captain." Kirk sighed.

"Fine. Next question: is there anything you want to do? I'm always the one suggesting stuff, and half of it you don't approve of."

"I am content with remaining under your direction." Spock said.

"Long as I'm not climbing stuff?" Spock inclined his head. Kirk pursed his lips. "What did you do in Safe Mode when you were younger?" Spock tilted his head in thought.

"Vulcans do not use books made out of plant material; they regard them to be a waste of a precious resource. My mother adopted this view. Vulcans typically do not engage in board games, even those requiring applications of logic, such as chess. There was no option for me but to explore, and nothing to explore but the desert." Kirk nodded thoughtfully.

"Did you like it?" Spock sent him a withering look which communicated how erroneous he found that question to be. Kirk rolled his eyes at Spock.

"It was fascinating. I studied the flora, fauna, and geology. My parents were mystified when I communicated my interest to them, but I merely wished to catalogue what I had observed during the freeze in the correct manner."

Kirk fidgeted. "So, you just looked at stuff?"

"I observed and mentally catalogued every animal, plant, and type of rock I came across." _So, yes, you just looked at stuff_, Kirk thought. "I believe that the focus that I applied to studying my surroundings during freezes has translated itself into an attention to detail which is unrivaled on Vulcan." The captain blinked.

"Unrivaled?"

"Indeed. It is a skill most prized amongst Vulcans, and a student's proficiency is measured every year. Many adults continue to take the tests after graduation, as a decline in mental acuity serves as an indicator for many illnesses."

"Even most Vulcans can't do what you do?" He asked, eyes wide.

"Correct. Unfortunately, my observational skills are not supplemented by an ability to evaluate everything I see." Spock paused. "Especially when it comes to interpreting the actions of Humans."

Kirk laughed. Before his first officer could get offended, he explained, "Don't worry; our actions confuse us, too."


	8. In Which The Captain Attempts To Waste

AN: YARR

/AN

In Which The Captain Attempts To Waste Time And Fails

Kirk decided to scout out the downtown district of the city so that he'd have an idea of where he wanted to go when he got his shore leave. Actually, it wasn't that important to him (he wasn't even sure that he still wanted to take shore leave), but goals—however arbitrary—_were_ important. The sidewalks were pretty crowded, but he and Spock had become used to weaving in and out of the living statues long ago. So it surprised Kirk when his shoulder connected with someone else's and then, propelled by the force of the contact, he ran into another being. Who cursed at him. The sudden influx of sound and movement disoriented him more than the freefall in the dark had. For a moment he couldn't do anything but stand on the sidewalk and try to not fall over. It was a relief when Spock grabbed his elbow and towed him into a less populated corner.

"Captain?" Spock asked, sounding worried.

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm…I will be fine once I get used to this again." He sighed. Spock's communicator squawked.

"Spock here."

"Commander Spock! We…umm…ah, where did you go?" The voice asked, trailing off awkwardly.

"I am on my way to retrieve the crewmembers I came to collect. Is this not satisfactory?" Kirk stifled at laugh at Spock's tone of puzzled innocence. _Oh, don't mind that I disappeared from right under your noses. This is a normal occurrence while I am carrying out my duties._

"No, that's perfectly fine. It's just, we didn't see you leave. But, umm…do you know where you're going?"

Spock executed a perfect not-roll of his eyes. "I ascertained the location of the crewmembers before I beamed down."

"That's fine then. We were going to provide you with transportation, but I guess you don't need that?" Spock's silence was the only answer the man needed. "Good luck then, Commander." Kirk could detect visual evidence that Spock was restraining himself from informing the man that luck is illogical.

"Spock out."

"Molien out."

Kirk chewed on his lip while he contemplated their next move. "Do you think I should go back to Federation Star or assist in the retrieval of the graffiting crewmembers?" Spock didn't get a chance to answer before Kirk's communicator whistled at him.

"Kirk here." He said cautiously.

"Captain Kirk, Danica McKeller here. I'm one of the event coordinators. Where are you, exactly?" She sounded more confused than anything else.

"There's been an issue with some of the crewmembers who are on shore leave. Commander Spock asked for my assistance." He raised his eyebrows at Spock, hoping that he would have something slightly stronger with which to back up the captain's absence.

"I'm really sure it was something the Commander would have been equipped to handle alone." McKeller sounded doubtful. Spock gestured for the comm and Kirk handed it over.

"Spock here. The charge is against the crewmembers is defacement via graffiti of a public area. Generally, a first offence on Lancre would carry a maximum fine of 1200 credits. However, during any 'event which attracts an amount of non-residents to any city equal to 20 percent of the total population of the aforementioned city,' the punishment for defacement via graffiti is much greater. I felt it prudent to have the captain on hand. I find that his so-called 'people skills' exceed my own, and his presence increases our chances of success by 41.27 percent." Kirk mouthed "Aww, shucks, Spock." at his companion. There was a minute of silence on the other end of the comm. Kirk suspected that McKeller was asking the opinions of some of the other organizers.

"Ok. Thank you, Commander Spock. Could I speak to Captain Kirk?" Kirk took back the comm.

"Kirk here." He said, shooting an amused look at Spock. Did McKeller really think that they weren't both listening in to the conversation?

"Captain? I talked to Pak, he's been doing Federation Star for the past 25 years. He said that the commander is right, the rules do get really strict, but they're not taken that seriously as long as the graffiti is not inflammatory or derogatory in any way. Do you know what they drew?" Kirk looked at Spock. The half-Vulcan winced slightly.

"It is something I am unfamiliar with. The officer I spoke to implied that it was a children's game, but the moniker the game carried seemed to indicate that it involved alcoholic beverages. I did not understand." Kirk narrowed his eyes in thought. The only game he knew of involving sidewalk chalk was….

"I believe that they were attempting to carry out a game of hopscotch. Might this be interpreted as derogatory or inflammatory by any of the cultures in attendance?" He asked McKeller.

"No, no, not at all. I think your crewmembers will be fine without you." The relief in her voice was clear. "Could you please come back? We need to get the final judging underway." Kirk looked at Spock, then shrugged.

"Think you can handle without me, Commander?" Spock's lips twitched.

"I believe so, Captain."

XXXXXX

Kirk tried to hail a taxi until Spock pointed out the severe case of gridlock the city was experiencing. He decided to walk back to the arena.

Security wouldn't let him back in (hell, how many 27-year-olds in Starfleet captain dress uniforms do _you_ see every day?) until he comm'd McKeller. She bustled him through security, talking all the way.

"Ok, you know, it would have been great if you could have talked to us first? You didn't have to sneak out—how did you get out, anyway? Never mind. So we recorded all the acts, and we've decided that it's ok if we shut you in a room and have you watch the last two and do the scores. Then we'll get you back together with the other judges in the arena and announce the rankings, etc. When that's done we'll get a video camera on you and take a couple reaction shots—favorite act, what you thought of the whole show, stuff like that. Then there's this function after the show where the performers, judges, and VIPs can mingle. It's not necessary you attend, but it'd be good for you to make an appearance, at least. Umm, ok, we're here."

She opened a door and led him into, as he'd just decided to call it, the Magical Recap Room. It sported a three meter plasma screen and surround sound.

In all, he felt, it was way too much effort to go to.

XXXXXX

The camera man/interviewer nervously adjusted the lighting.

"You ready?" Kirk nodded.

"So, what did you think of Federation Star?"

"Well, before this I don't think I ever heard of Federation Star except in passing. I guess it comes from growing up in the cornfields of Iowa." Kirk laughed. "So I didn't have a clue what to expect. It was interesting to see a whole bunch of dissimilar cultures come together and do their version of a talent show act."

"You'd never heard of Federation Star before this?"

"I hadn't, really. My childhood was really low tech. At school, we'd gotten a grant, somehow, so we had all the usual technology; PADDs, holographic interfaces, individual terminals, all that. But at home? I fixed the neighbor's broken farm equipment and fed the chickens."

"What did you think of the other judges?"

"I thought they seemed…much more used to doing this sort of thing than I am. Professional, I think, would be the word. I didn't know any of them going in except for the mother of my first officer."

"What did you think of her?"

"It was great to be able to speak to her under such cordial circumstances." Kirk thought he heard the interviewer sigh.

"What was your favorite act?"

"I guess it was—" The interviewer cut him off.

"You shouldn't have to guess." Kirk sniggered before he could stop himself. He waved away the interviewer's look of confusion, and indicated that he was ready. The question was repeated.

"My favorite act was the one the one that the—I can't pronounce their name, the glow-in-the-dark one?" _Can't remember their name, more like it. Damn freeze._ "Where they dressed all in black, attached lights to themselves, and danced with all the lights off." The man muttered something about cutting that bit out.

"Why was it your favorite?"

"It should be obvious." Kirk said with an unusually sincere smile. "I'm the youngest Starfleet captain ever. I know almost nothing about the intricacies and histories of most alien and Human cultures. I went to the Academy and learned about commanding, starships, and space. Sometimes, I feel like that's all I know. The beauty and significance of a song, a dance, a work of art, these things I might not be able to grasp. But that act captured the magnificence of the night sky; the slow dance of galaxies. That, I can understand."

XXXXXX

Kirk didn't actually feel like taking shore leave after the freeze. He'd had enough idleness, thankyouverymuch. So when he comm'd Spock and had his name taken off the shore leave lists, he should have realized that McCoy wouldn't understand.

He should also have realized that the doctor would be waiting for him in the transporter room.

"Kid, what happened?" McCoy said, advancing in his recently materialized friend.

"I went to Federation Star. Judged most of the acts. Escaped. Was forcibly brought back, shut in a cell, and compelled to finish my judging duties. Then I was interrogated by a man wielding a camera. I barely survived. Now, I return to the bosom of my ship, my friends, my colleagues, and I am so glad that you want to hear all about the hell that I have endured for your sakes." He finished the short monologue with a melodramatic sigh. McCoy squinted at him.

"Wrong answer to the wrong question." The tricorder came out. "Why aren't you on the rosters for shore leave anymore? You seemed eager enough, before. And don't spout any more nonsense about being tortured by cameras. You love the attention." Kirk grimaced to show McCoy that he was wrong.

"Here, come with me. We'll talk." Kirk motioned for McCoy to follow him. He waited until they were both ensconced in his quarters to speak again.

"You know that thing I told you about before? Where everything freezes?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Not this again!" He growled.

"Yes, again."

McCoy looked at Kirk suspiciously. "How come I never heard about this, all the time we spent at the Academy, all the time together on the Enterprise, and you never mentioned this once?"

Kirk wandered over to the go board and began pushing the stones around. "Because it didn't happen."

"It didn't happen." McCoy repeated dubiously.

"Yeah. Time froze when I was 16. Then it happened again before we met with those aliens—the Souflakti. And I just got out of one a few hours ago. Trust me, I've had enough shore leave to last me a long time."

McCoy seemed to be considering something. "Was Spock with you?" Kirk nodded. "But no one else?" He nodded again. "That doesn't sound like much of a shore leave to me. There's no way that spending eternity with the hobgoblin is relaxing."

"It was plenty leisurely, Bones. We…we talked. We explored the city. I climbed things, he reminded me that I was acting like an idiot. Actually, that last bit sounds kinda like you."

The doctor grumbled. "Don't you dare compare the two of us. Seriously, Jim. You need a real vacation."

Kirk laughed. "Isn't the point of a vacation to 'get away from it all?' I just had who-knows-how-long of enforced awayness. No reports, no comms, no drunk crewmembers synthesizing sidewalk chalk in the lab…no hyposprays." He added teasingly. "I need to get back to work. Hell, I was gone so long that I need to refresh my memory. If you make me go on shore leave, you'll regret it. I'll forget that time isn't frozen and do something stupid. Actually, I'll probably be the one synthesizing sidewalk chalk. I think you've bailed me out of jail enough times, don't you?"

Some of the tension left McCoy's shoulders. "Yeah, I have." They sat in comfortable silence for a bit.

"Would you at least take some time off and spend time with your command crew? None of us have been seeing very much of you, and I think the boy wonder's starting to feel a little neglected."

"You mean Chekov?" Kirk snorted. "He's quite the social butterfly. He doesn't need me."

McCoy shook his head. "I dunno what you're mistaking for social interaction, but he isn't getting much."

"What do you mean? Every time I see him he's holding a whispered conversation with someone from science or engineering. He must be on speaking terms with half the ship!"

McCoy snorted. "Speaking terms, yeah. He's a boy genius. They come to him with problems, it's sort of a game with them. There're some betting pools going on with guesses as to who'll manage to stump him, or how long he'll take to solve an equation. He's like a sideshow to them! I dunno whether he has any real friends on the ship, but you're one of the only people who treats the kid like an equal."

Kirk felt disturbed by this news; he was usually so good at picking up the vibes of an interaction. "But…why me? I doubt we have anything in common."

"Not everybody's got the gift of gab you do, kid. You can have nothing in common with a person, but as long as you're comfortable, they're comfortable too. Look at Spock! He gets so caught up in your stupid bickering matches that he forgets that he's on duty. I've seen his face when someone sniggers and he realizes he has an audience; I've never seen him look so disoriented. Chatting like that's probably all kinds of illogical, but you manage to bring him down to your level." Kirk punched McCoy in the arm. Rubbing his shoulder ruefully, he continued, "Forget the hobgoblin, look at me! I wanted nothing at all to do with you, but you seemed to think that getting barfed on by me gave you some sort of permission to treat me without an ounce of respect. Six months later you'd scared your roommate away, and I'd _agreed_ to take his place! An' I know for a fact that we had absolutely nothing in common." Kirk shrugged.

"It's easy…." He trailed off at the look on McCoy's face. "Ok, ok, easy for me. Any other neglected crewmembers I should know about?"

McCoy frowned in thought. "I'd say Uhura, but she can't stand you. Bring Sulu along. He's got plenty of buddies, but he's the closest thing to a friend Chekov has. I think he's a bit intimidated by the way the kid considers working physics equations to be his favorite hobby, though. Find him a new hobby, an _actual_ hobby, and that should fix it."

Kirk had been nodding along to McCoy's advice, but now he blinked. "Wait, since when do you pay this much attention to anyone who's not dying?"

McCoy shifted uncomfortably. "I don't. But I've been talking to…people." Kirk grinned wickedly. He knew what kind of 'people' McCoy'd been getting this advice from.

"So, I guess I don't have to worry about you getting lonely, huh Bones?" McCoy blushed, then punched Kirk back.

"Owww." Kirk complained. McCoy stuck his tongue out to demonstrate a blatant lack of remorse.

XXXXXX

Kirk refused to leave the ship for shore leave (he'd had his fill of the city), but he wasn't averse to organizing some fun within the ship. He managed to talk Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty (he didn't bother asking Spock) into participating in an unspecified game taking place on the ship. McCoy supplied a few other participants in Nurses Chapel, Hayat, and Janson. They seemed to be the main suppliers of ship gossip to McCoy, and were therefore sympathetic towards Kirk's mission to entertain Chekov.

"Ok!" Said Kirk, clapping his hands as he surveyed the people assembled in rec room E. "You are gathered here today to play an epic game of tag!" Eyebrows in multiples of two shot up. Kirk frowned playfully. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Um, Captain," Sulu began. "You may not have noticed, but we're not eight years old."

Kirk flapped his hand at his audience. "Look, Bones wants me to do shore leave. I don't want to do shore leave. I'm hoping that our game makes its way to sickbay, I'll knock something over, he'll come out of his office and yell at me, I'll tell him it's his fault, he'll sigh and tell me that I can do whatever I damn well please as long as it doesn't involve medbay. Then I'll take you all back to my quarters and break out the booze and the vintage movies." He winked facetiously at the nurses. "Capiche?"

The eyebrows had sunk, and now the co-conspirators were wearing expressions showing varying degrees of amusement. A round of nods catalogued their consent, and Kirk ran out of the room with a shout of, "Sulu's it!"

XXXXXX

"Of all the idiotic things…." McCoy ranted as he aimed a bright light at Kirk's wounds. "You had to pick the _one_ cart stocked with glass bottles to run into. Don't blame me if you've got little shards stuck in you for the rest of your short idiotic life…." He'd been keeping the monologue going with no help or input from Kirk, aside from the occasional whimper when the lacerations were squeezed to encourage the glass to leave on a river of blood. Nurse Chapel stood penitently by with a tray to gather the shards as McCoy tweezed them out of Kirk. The rest of the tag players had been sent to their rooms by the irate doctor.

The game had been working adequately, nay, even wonderfully before the accident occurred. They'd had a blast, ranging down deserted hallways and forming brief coalitions to outwit whoever was 'it.' If the silly, out-of-breath taunts Kirk had heard shouted were any indication, the participating crewmembers had forgotten any awkwardness between themselves for that brief period. He was rather worried that he had ruined whatever camaraderie they had developed by becoming so spectacularly injured. Well, that, and by incurring the wrath of the CMO. He hadn't dared try to blame this outcome on McCoy's insistence that he engage in shore leave.

"Well, that looks like all of it, no thanks to you." The doctor growled. With the help of the still silent Chapel, he closed the cuts on Kirk's left arm and shoulder with butterfly bandages. Kirk was just about to flippantly thank McCoy for his help and leave when Spock entered the medbay. Kirk raised his eyebrows at the half-Vulcan.

"Captain." Spock halted a meter away from the examination table that Kirk was on. "I was informed by Lt. Chekov that you had become injured. He seemed quite distressed."

"Poor Chekov." Kirk said, nodding with feigned concern.

Spock leaned slightly closer to survey the doctor's handiwork. "You _are_ injured."

Kirk widened his eyes. "Really? I hadn't noticed!" he said, mouth curling into a smile.

Spock kept his voice neutral. "How careless of you. I count six lacerations of varying severity along with four smaller punctures. I cannot imagine how injuries this extensive escaped your notice. Please pay more attention in the future, Captain."

Chapel and McCoy watched this exchange with varying degrees of disbelief and annoyance, respectively. McCoy then spurred himself into action, threw up his hands, and dragged the fascinated Chapel away.

Kirk leaned forward confidentially. "It's all Bones' fault, you know."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I was unaware. How is the doctor responsible for this outcome?"

"He made me take shore leave." Kirk grinned, pleased that he could try out this excuse on _someone_.

"Indeed." Spock murmured. "We will have to remedy that in the future." At Kirk's look of confusion, he elaborated. "I will personally make sure that you never take another shore leave again."

Kirk laughed. "Lemmie amend that; another shore leave _without my consent_."

"I find that definition to be much too narrow. I suspect that you will manage to injure yourself whether you consent to the vacation or not."

Kirk cocked his head in thought. "I see an error in that reasoning. I suspect that I will become injured whether or not I am even _on_ vacation."

Captain and first officer contemplated the implications of that line of thought in horrified silence.

XXXXXX

Kirk had three options, but he only considered the first two seriously. Option 1: Gather up the tag players and try to salvage the fun with alcohol. Option 2: Drag Spock back to his room and have a brainstorming session about Safe Mode. Not-Really-An-Option 3: Go back to his room and be alone.

He really wasn't feeling that last one.

Spock, still standing approximately a meter away from him in medbay, raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Kirk guessed that he must have been giving Spock weird looks, or something.

"To make a decision, I am in need of more information. What was the purpose of this 'tag'?" Spock asked.

Kirk blinked. "What?" Another blink. "Wait…." Blink, blink. _Spock isn't touching me. He can't read my mind…oh._ "I said that out loud, didn't I?" He asked, chagrined.

Spock inclined his head. "You were not aware of this?"

Kirk shook his head.

Spock waited. Finally, he said, "You might as well inform me as to the reason you were engaging in tag with a group of people."

Kirk laughed. "I might as well, indeed."

The decision was made for him. They ended up back in the captain's quarters with Spock complaining that he still couldn't grasp the purpose of the game called 'tag.'

XXXXXX

Shore leave couldn't end soon enough, as far as Kirk was concerned. Luckily, he'd gotten into the habit of keeping himself occupied every moment possible during Safe Mode, and it had translated into an admirable work ethic in real time. With most of the crew away from the ship, and having already injured himself once, he was forced to complete every piece of paperwork that was potentially due before the Enterprise would leave Lancre.

Pike called during the first alpha shift after shore leave had ended. Image thrown up on the bridge's viewscreen, he'd asked to brief Kirk on the mission in private. Unsurprisingly, Spock followed the captain into the conference room without being asked.

"So, Kirk. You can appreciate the beauty of the dancing stars? Good thing you found something other than juggling to talk about on TV." Pike drawled at his audience of two. It took Kirk a second to figure out what the admiral was referring to. Once he did, he blushed.

"You…you saw that?"

Pike chuckled. "It's just about the only clip they're showing! A lot of the other judges are old hands at this—they've got the right mix of sentimentality and compliment down to a science. But you? Anyone can see that you were completely sincere. Never knew you were such a poet."

Spock was looking confused, so Kirk asked, "Hey Admiral. Do you have a copy of the clip? I think Spock wants to see."

Pike raised an eyebrow. "You actually want me to show him?"

Kirk nodded. "I don't see why not. He's the one person I'd trust not to tease me mercilessly about it."

Pike looked at the two of them intently, then seemed to give up. Without another word, he queued up the clip of Kirk explaining the reasoning behind his choice of favorite act.

Pike was chuckling when he came back on screen. Kirk rolled his eyes at his mentor and looked at Spock for a reaction. Spock was staring at him with his robot face on, and declined to comment when prompted. Shrugging, Kirk turned back to Pike.

"Was that all you wanted me for?"

"Hell no, kid. I could have called you in your quarters if I just wanted to see you squirm. This is about your next mission." Kirk fidgeted as the silence stretched.

"And the mission is….?"

Pike looked reluctant. "Ok, so there's a reason I wanted to give you this assignment in private. I just want you to know—I know it's a raw deal. But the Enterprise is equipped with the newest scientific surveying equipment the fleet has, not to mention excellent offensive and defensive capabilities. Perfect for scouting—" Here he mumbled something so quickly that Kirk couldn't catch it. Luckily, Spock had come along.

"Sector H13-Theta59? Past Galen?" He asked innocently.

Kirk narrowed his eyes. "This means more to you two than it does me. Surveying's not ideal, yeah, but what's the matter?"

"Captain," Spock said slowly. "At a standard cruising speed of warp 6, it will take us approximately 2,595 hours to reach the edge of the space we are assigned to survey."

"That's um…damn, days don't mean anything to me anymore. Like, 108 days-ish? That seems like a long time?" He hadn't meant to, but his voice had trailed up into a question. He hated doing that, it made him sound uncertain. But he was uncertain. If living on a starship for a year hadn't been enough to destroy his sense of time, the two bouts of Safe Mode definitely were. Now he measured time arbitrarily, with a general focus on the short term. How long till alpha shift ended? How much longer till alpha shift began? He'd long ago given up trying to think in days or weeks or months or anything that used phrases like 'tomorrow' or 'two days ago.' He'd been fascinated (and more than a little intimidated) by Spock, who always effortlessly knew the ship time, stardate, Terran time, and the local time for whatever planet they were at. He'd stubbornly tried to make due on his own, but after missing two meetings in as many months (Pike had informed him of this) he'd caved and learned to depend on Spock to keep him on track.

Which had really chafed, because Spock refused to say anything remotely non-business-related to him. And Kirk had taken that as a silent comment on his inability to be completely professional at all times. _Look how easy it is_, Spock seemed to think at him, _and yet you Human, you with the attention span of a gnat, cannot keep track of time. You cannot possibly expect to gain the respect of anyone. Least of all myself._

Kirk's insecurities came rushing back. Unconsciously, he hunched his shoulders a bit and lowered his head. Everything he'd managed to accomplish, and he still couldn't remember whether 108 days worth of travel time was something he should get upset about. Pike obviously thought that it was, though.

"Indeed, Captain. At the same speed, it would take us over half a standard year to return to Earth from our current location." Kirk blinked. Somehow, Spock had known how to put it into perspective for him. Kirk made a point to always know how far away the Enterprise was from Earth. It was just one of those things; he didn't really get homesick, but ever since the destruction of Vulcan he'd felt like he shouldn't take his home planet for granted. So he kept it in the back of his mind by almost obsessively keeping track of the light years separating him from Earth.

And Spock had, apparently, noticed. Maybe it'd had something to do with how he started every shift by asking Chekov for the distance.

So now he knew that the trip to the sector they were being sent to explore was two-thirds of the distance between the Enterprise and his other, secondary, home.

Kirk smiled at Spock in thanks, and Pike looked perplexed.

"You're not upset?" The admiral asked.

Kirk shrugged. "Yeah, I guess it'll take us a while to get there. It's better than—" He stopped himself. He had been about to say that it was better than transporting diseased scientists or judging the galaxy's biggest talent show, but there was a chance that it wouldn't go over well with the admiral. He settled for "—some of our other assignments."

Pike had heard the pause, but he didn't seem inclined to comment on it. He told them that Chekov would be receiving more exact coordinates for their surveying mission, then signed off.


	9. In Which The Captain Is Restless

AN: Yarr, new update. This one…I wanted to flesh out the rest of the Enterprise. And I felt like passively sitting in Spock's quarters playing chess/go all the time wasn't something that could amuse Kirk indefinitely, even though Spock's awesome and all (no one's denying this :D).

And Safe Mode wreaks havoc on Kirk's brain.

Comments/reviews/critiques/readers are always appreciated. Thank you, you lovely people!

/AN

In Which The Captain Is Restless

Kirk may have not balked at the amount of time it would take them to reach sector H13-Theta59 in _theory_, but after the first couple shift rotations of nothing but transit he was quickly changing his tune. His eyes roamed the bridge as he thought. He needed a project, something that wasn't likely to get him injured, something sneaky, something…ah.

His eyes rested on Spock.

XXXXXX

"Captain?" The voice came from right over his left shoulder. Kirk jumped a bit.

"Yes, Spock?" He'd been leaning over Chekov's station as the Lieutenant explained the details of the course he was charting. Kirk had been curious to see what parts of space their new mission would take them through. He had completely failed to hear the commander approaching him.

"Might I speak with you in the conference room?" Spock's voice was carefully neutral. Kirk knew that it was his guilty conscious speaking, that Spock might want to speak to him about any number of things, but he couldn't help thinking '_busted'_.

He made a gesture to indicate that Spock was to lead the way. As they crossed the bridge Kirk saw some of the crewmembers surreptitiously watching their ranking officers. The rumor mill had been working overtime ever since the captain had refused to take shore leave.

Once they were safely alone in the conference room, Spock turned to face Kirk.

"Not more than an hour ago I was informed of the real reason Ensign Shanlan has been absent from the science substation on the bridge. Why did you not consult with me on whether she could take time to work on other projects?" Kirk crossed his arms.

"So, you wouldn't have approved her request to be allowed to work on that telemetry thing?"

"No, it is most likely that I would have."

Kirk took a step toward Spock. "Then, how would consulting you have made a difference on the outcome?" Spock, recognizing that this conversation was becoming uncomfortably similar to one he'd had with Kirk before—except with reversed roles—decided to take another track.

"Then, there is the subject of Ensign Shanlan's replacement. Why did you choose Ensign Nlend to take her place? He is inferior to her in every way." Kirk chewed on his lip and gazed at Spock in an uncomfortably considering way.

"In what ways are Nlend inferior to Shanlan?" He asked slowly. From the way that Spock was suddenly looking less peeved and more considering, Kirk gathered that his first officer was finally picking up on the fact that this situation had more to it than the half-Vulcan had first thought.

"On average, he is 14.35 minutes late to his shifts. He leaves the bridge more often than is necessary and provides vague and untruthful answers to my queries about his absences. I have observed him 'stealthily' using his comm and consoles to engage in non-work related conversations on no less than 27 separate occasions. He is generally distracted and slow to follow directions. Additionally, his physical health leaves much to be desired. He is consistently sleep-deprived, and he appears to be slightly malnourished, although how he accomplishes that on the Federation's flagship is a mystery." Kirk was now feeling slightly alarmed.

"Conclusions, Commander?" Spock took a deep breath before continuing.

"He is slothful and careless. He also lies, as he claimed that Ensign Shanlan was ill and that she had requested that he cover her shift until her health was improved. As I have already mentioned, I spoke with Ensign Shanlan 64.79 minutes ago, and she assured me that she is, and has been, in excellent health. She also informed me that all of this was your doing." That last was delivered in a slightly accusing tone. Kirk sighed.

"Spock, this must be the first time you have failed a test so spectacularly." Spock frowned in bewilderment and concern. Kirk flopped down in a nearby chair.

"A while ago you told me that you find Humans to be confusing; you can compile tons of data but fail to find a pattern in that data. This was a test—a pretest, if you will. Please sit down, Spock. This whole thing was anything but official. I'm speaking to you as a friend who just happened to have the power to mess about with your environment to this degree." He smiled wearily. Spock appeared to be apprehensive, but he took a seat anyway.

"So you've got the data. Nlend's tardy, distracted, and his work is shoddy. Plus, he isn't in the best of health. You decided that he is lazy and sloppy, and left it at that. Now, I know for a fact that that is an erroneous conclusion. What other explanations could there be for his behavior?" Spock thought quietly.

"I am sorry, Captain. I do not know." Kirk smiled.

"And what don't you know? What would you normally do when you can't reach a correct conclusion?"

"I would gather more data." Spock said with certainty. Kirk clapped his hands.

"Exactly! Wonderful job, Commander. Let's do this again sometime." He said, then left the room in a bright whirlwind before Spock could ask him more questions.

XXXXXX

The Ensign Experiment (as he'd taken to calling it) had required a good amount of time to set up. Now that it was running, however, it was mostly self-sustaining. Kirk needed a new project. He complained to McCoy who was, initially, very unhelpful. The doctor wanted to know when Kirk had become too good for booze and movies.

Kirk would have liked to have an answer to that question, too. Now, watching movies and drinking seemed too sedentary, and if there was one thing he did know it was that he'd developed an allergy to sitting still. Spock, using metrics unknown to Kirk, had informed him that he had become 37.93 percent more restless since the last freeze. Kirk took up fencing with Sulu (and dragged Chekov along for the ride), boxing and other sundry activities with Giotto, and even crashed Nurse Janson's yoga classes. When he discovered that Ensign Skopin was a former gymnastics champion, nothing could dissuade him from learning how to tumble. His off duty hours became a mixture of exercise, intellectual pursuits with Spock, and exhausted sleep.

Rinse and repeat.

This left his on-duty time relatively free. Sure, there was paperwork and inspections and issues between crewmembers to mediate and discipline to be dealt and the occasional training maneuver to perform.

Before, these things had been plenty to keep Kirk occupied. Now, they didn't seem anything like enough.

McCoy became worried. He never stopped asking Kirk what was wrong, but he began to take his lack of answers more seriously.

McCoy made it his business to find projects for Kirk; the more time and planning necessary for the execution, the better. With any luck, they would provide enough distractions that the captain wouldn't work himself to death.

XXXXXX

By the time the Enterprise had passed Galen, Kirk had solved a number of problems.

He'd hooked Giotto up with the engineering ensign he'd been pining over since shore leave. That hadn't taken much ingenuity, but it made Kirk feel better for hogging whatever free time the security man could spare.

He'd resolved, to everyone's amazement, the Feud of Rec Room E. Both the live action role playing group and the theatrical group had wanted use of that particular room, each for separate reasons. Initially, Kirk hadn't been able to figure out whether the hostility of the two groups predated the Feud, but after he'd made the drastic miscalculation of trying to find similarities ("You both act," he'd pointed out hopefully. "Yes, but we don't _sing."_ A LARPer remarked disdainfully.), it was obvious to him that there was more to their mutual animosity than an argument over a rec room.

They both wanted that particular room because it was the largest. Why they both needed it at the same exact time was less clear. Eventually he'd unearthed (with Spock's help, but no one knew that part) a grainy video recording that shed light on the situation. While still cadets, the founding members of both groups on the Enterprise had been involved in similar clubs at the Academy. The recording was of a disastrous rehearsal of what appeared to be a play combining the two groups. When asked, the president of the theatrical group admitted that they'd tried to do a performance with the LARPers because the role players already had costumes, and they'd thought that they could save money this way. The LARPers had turned out to have an allergy to singing and dancing, even if they weren't the ones doing it. The theatre people claimed that the performance wasn't worth doing without at least a few musical numbers. Arguments ensued.

Armed with this new knowledge, alcohol, and a vintage recording of Spamalot, it wasn't difficult for Kirk to forge a new understanding between the groups. It might have had something to do with Kirk singing along to all the songs. A shared traumatic experience will do wonders for bridging animosity.

He considered trying to do something for Uhura, but he decided that she probably wouldn't take his meddling well.

With some prodding from Kirk, Sulu and Chekov's awkward acquaintanceship had bloomed into a strong—although slightly bizarre—friendship. The captain had eventually, after an embarrassing number of hours spent brainstorming, hit on something that both of them liked, albeit from different angles; flight. Sulu liked flying, whether it was starships, hang gliders, or paper airplanes. Chekov liked physics. Kirk had issued his suggestion is his typically roundabout way: he'd sat in his command chair on the bridge and thrown terribly constructed paper airplanes at Helm and Navigation until they stopped shouting suggestions at him and instead began to discuss improvements on the captain's technique amongst themselves. The rest was history.

McCoy had requested (probably due to some prodding from Chapel) that Kirk fix the replicators in the medbay. McCoy complained that the comestibles from the replicators tasted like 'hospital food.' Kirk had objected that that was '_illogical_,' as they were the same type used in the mess halls, and it was highly improbable that every single replicator in medbay would develop the same problem. That is, until he tasted the food.

Then he gave himself a crash course on how to program replicators.

He was so successful that he felt a little bragging was warranted. When Spock heard of his accomplishment, he wondered out loud whether Kirk's skills extended to reprogramming the replicators for alien dishes. The captain wasn't one to shrink from a challenge, and in his quest for reasonably-flavored alien food he made friends with many of the extraterrestrials on the ship.

Spock had even, eventually, solved the puzzle the captain had posed to him in the form of Ensign Nlend. Spock had been exactingly thorough in his investigation. Nlend was, as Kirk had known, going through a messy divorce on Terra. He was so stressed that his immune system was partially compromised, hence the constant absences from the bridge; he was visiting medbay. Or sometimes grabbing coffee from the mess in an attempt to stay alert. Kirk would have felt bad using an ensign's suffering to teach Spock a lesson if the man hadn't completely refused all offers of help. The captain had even ordered Nlend to get counseling, but the man had remained completely silent through all the sessions with the therapist. He'd actually hoped, at the beginning, that Spock would instantly identify the problem and, using his scathingly enormous vocabulary, talk some sense into the ensign. When that hadn't happened, he'd turned it into a learning experience.

In this manner, the voyage passed astoundingly quickly. Kirk was almost surprised when Spock approached him on the bridge and announced with absolutely no fanfare that they had reached the edge of the sector they were to survey.

XXXXXX

One Beta shift, Kirk and Spock were in the captain's quarters playing Xitheru, an Andorian logic game that Ensign Shira had given him as a thank-you for programming a replicator with her favorite dish. Both players were having a slight problem adjusting to the game, as it required surprisingly advanced 3-D thinking.

Generally, if Kirk became tired of a particular match that he was playing with Spock, he'd introduce a topic for discussion that would probably need to be researched to find an answer. Spock generally obliged by engaging in the new topic, and then the game would eventually lie forgotten as they clustered around Kirk's computer consol.

Therefore, Kirk was surprised when Spock interrupted the game with a complicated question of his own.

"Captain." The commander waited longer than he needed to to get the captain's attention. "I was cogitating on the phenomenon that we both experience—Safe Mode." Kirk smiled. It had taken a while, but Spock was finally able to say it without putting audible quotations around the moniker. "Do we experience them at the same time?"

"How do you mean?"

"I wonder whether a time freeze encompasses a specific locality. The two most recent times, we have been within a few kilometers of each other. But did time freeze for you on Earth, or Tarsus IV, the same time it did for me, on Vulcan?"

Kirk pursed his lips, Xitheru already forgotten. "I haven't the slightest clue. And I'm not sure there's any way we can figure it out." Spock frowned.

"Why do you think this?"

"Because, you may remember the exact time and date of every freeze you've ever been through, but I don't." Spock's expression cleared.

"I am sure there is some way we can recover the dates. There must be records. After all, you mentioned at least one time a freeze occurred while you were attending school. You were reprimanded for not being in class when time resumed, yes?" Kirk blinked.

"Yes…I think I even had a detention. But how the hell are we supposed to get access to that stuff?" Spock raised an eyebrow. Kirk stared back, uncomprehending. Then the light dawned. "But Spock…isn't that _cheating_?" He asked slyly.

"I do not think we are the only ones who are cheating." Spock remarked enigmatically.

Nothing Kirk said would persuade him to explain what he'd meant.

XXXXXX

Hacking into Kirk's elementary school disciplinary records would have to wait until a time when the Enterprise wasn't 150.588235 light years away from Earth. The captain decided to take interest in the readings the scanners were picking up. He knew that he was probably being a nuisance, but once he'd decided that he wanted a better understanding of the information their mission was providing to Starfleet he wasn't able to stem his curiosity.

The crew generally did an admirable job of acting like the captain's recent mania wasn't bothering them, but sometimes they slipped.

XXXXXX

Kirk was slouching by a replicator in the mess hall when he noticed that Chekov was attempting to stealthily survey the cafeteria. When the navigator's gaze fell on Kirk (who was innocently looking at a table on the other side of the cafeteria while he tracked Chekov's movements out of the corner of his eye), he stopped searching and leaned in to speak to his tablemates. Kirk noted with interest that Sulu, Scotty, and Chapel were sitting with the Russian. He wondered why the Nurse was sitting with the geeks of the command team.

The replicator beeped at him, signaling that his fish and chips were assembled. He grabbed the food and wandered, seemingly aimlessly, until he was within earshot of Chekov.

"No! I am serious! Do you not sink zhat zhe keptin has zhe bipolar disorder?" Kirk hadn't been intending to let on that he was eavesdropping, but he couldn't help laughing at that. Immediately, Chekov's head whipped around and his ears turned bright red.

"I…ahm…" he stammered.

Kirk closed the distance to the table and, still chuckling a little, asked if he could sit. Warily Chapel and Sulu moved over to make room for him. Sulu immediately began speaking, but his words were directed toward the navigator.

"Look, I told you. He's not bipolar. If he was bipolar, he'd have downs along with ups." Here he looked apologetically at Kirk. "But he's just always up."

Kirk raised an eyebrow in what he knew was an awful impersonation of Spock. "Why would you think I'm bipolar in the first place? What'm I doing that's so weird?" The rest of the table's occupants exchanged glances. Kirk sighed. Through silent vote, Chapel was elected to speak.

"Captain, your behavior keeps changing. For the first, I don't know, year or so you acted kind of…" she made a vague gesture with her hands, as though trying to pull something out of thin air, "…I don't want to say unfocused or lacking in any way, because you weren't, you were still a great captain, but you put off doing paperwork and hung out with Leonard all the time. Then something changed, and you suddenly were spending all your time with Commander Spock and talking about complicated theoretical stuff that I'd swear you had no interest in, before. After Federation Star you switched again; you were always in the gym or doing something or at least _planning_ to do something. Your paperwork's all done way ahead of time. Leonard was really worried about you, said you weren't resting enough. Now…now you want to know about every little thing the scanners pick up. The scientists don't know what to do, you're always popping up in the labs and it's making them nervous." She screwed up her face, expressing her annoyance at the vagueness of her explanation. "I know you're not bipolar, probably even Chekov knows you're not bipolar, but we just don't know what is going on with you."

Kirk sat, immersed in thought. He hadn't considered how his behavior would be interpreted. To him, it had felt like there was a natural progression between each new phase as natural as the progression from chess to go to Xitheru. Or from studying Orion to Vulcan to Klingon sign language (he supposed that it shouldn't be a surprise that such a warlike race would commonly suffer from hearing loss). He had trouble sticking with things. He would, generally, only be interested in a subject long enough for him to either master it or give up in disgust (the latter had happened to his study of Vulcan).

"Um, I guess you guys haven't noticed, but I have kind of a short attention span." He put a sheepish expression on his face as he prepared to allay his crew's concerns with half-truths. "I can focus really intently on something if I'm interested in it. Usually, though, one day I'll wake up and I'm inexplicably sick of whatever it is I was studying. You wanna diagnose me? ADHD meets OCD. Seriously, Chekov. What's the longest amount of time you've ever seen me sit still on the bridge for?" As far as Kirk could tell, his audience believed what he was saying, but they still weren't reassured.

"I do not sink much more zhan two hours, Keptin. And zhat was when we were on zhe yellow alert and guarding zhe Starbase 133 from zhe Klingons." Chekov admitted.

"Right. And just because I'm going a little stir-crazy does not mean I'm developing serious psychological disorders, yes?" Chapel leaned forward.

"Stir-crazy?"

Kirk shrugged. "Yeah. One shift it hit me; I'd been doing the same things, hanging out with the same people, wandering the same halls…I had to do something to shake it up. So…I have." The sheepish smile was back. Chapel crossed her arms.

"I feel like you're not telling us everything, Captain." He laughed.

"Oh, dear Nurse, if I told you everything we would never be finished." He said fancifully, waving a French fry in the air in lieu of a pointed finger. Then he smiled mischievously. "With the number of heart-to-hearts I've been having with my crew, I think I should invest in a comments box to put outside my door. What do you think?" Kirk asked facetiously. Chapel, however, took the suggestion seriously.

"Not yours, Leonard's. You'd just dismiss everything, but Leonard might be able to talk to you about them." Kirk was about to object, but Sulu spoke first.

"Shouldn't we give the comments to Commander Spock, then?"

Chapel, Chekov, and Scotty looked at Sulu in surprise, and then nodded thoughtfully.

XXXXXX

The Enterprise had been tentatively allotted 2100 hours for surveying. Starfleet was mostly interested on the composition of every planet, moon, asteroid, and rock in the sector. Spock informed Kirk that the Federation was worried about the Cardassians' recent implementation of trade quotas for exports. The Empire supplied a significant percentage of the Federation's rare earth elements, but it claimed that its supplies of the elements were dwindling.

The Federation needed a new source of rare earth elements that it could fall back to if the Cardassians continued to (as the officials back on Earth suspected) withhold trade. Ideally, the necessary materials would be located on an already populated and sufficiently advanced planet, because trading for the elements was more cost- and risk-effective than establishing Federation-controlled mining bases would be.

The result? The Enterprise might be handling a first contact or two. Kirk tried not to feel stressed over the possibility.

XXXXXX

Nine hundred and fifty-two hours (by Spock's count) into the surveying mission, the possibility became a certainty. H13-Theta59.15 Ae, also known as the fourth planet from the sun (designated 15 A) in the sector H13-Theta25, had both intelligent life and large quantities of the elements the Federation was interested in. A scan of the 'H13-Theta59.15 A' solar system suggested that the natives had achieved some form of faster-than-light travel; they had not established extraplanetary colonies, but there was evidence of their presence (surveying equipment, detritus, abandoned temporary living quarters) scattered around their solar system and that of their immediate neighbors. This suggested that they had sufficiently advanced technology for travel, but not for generating gravity/shielding from radiation/the sustainability necessary for colonies.

It also meant that Kirk wasn't sure whether the Enterprise could get close enough to the planet for observation without being observed itself. As a compromise, they hovered in the asteroid belt ringing the outer reaches of the system while Uhura scanned all frequencies in the hopes of picking up some sort of broadcast.

After a solid hour and a half of scanning, she finally concluded that she had found five separate channels solely devoted to audio transmissions, which appeared to be in some sort of Morse code; a few dozen more which were solid data (being sent from the satellites); and finally a surprising amount of video communications. It appeared that video exchanges were the preferred method of communicating on this planet.

Spock, accompanied by a platoon of science nerds, set to decrypting and interpreting as many of the signals as possible.

XXXXXX

As head of the Communications department, Lt. Uhura directed the briefing on the planet.

"Preliminary investigations suggests that the natives do not possess vocal cords, or any analogous organs. Instead, they communicate via a form of sign language. The average member of the species looks like this." She clicked a button on her remote and a picture popped up. The aliens were greenish and scaly. They had three eye-like appendages on the tops of their heads, set at one-hundred twenty degree angles from each other, presumably granting them three-sixty degree vision. They also sported three arm-like appendages, each one located in line with an eye.

Spock stood up. "They prefer to depend on their sign language for communication, but most of the adults seem to be versed in a Morse code-like language. Two of the appendages, the ones corresponding to the beings' anterior region—readily distinguishable by the location of the mouth—are used to visual communication. The posterior appendage carries something which is used to create noise, and thus allow the natives to engage in auditory communication. The captain," Spock did not address him directly, but Kirk could tell that he was watching out of the corner of his eye, "will be glad to know that, due to our monitoring of their video frequencies, have an extensive collection of visual recordings."

Kirk grinned at the commander's consideration. Short lecture on physiology concluded, Spock reclaimed his seat and Uhura moved back to the front of the room.

"Some communications ensigns and I are focusing on decoding the audio signals, as my aural awareness is much better than my visual. I have hand-picked a number of other ensigns to work on learning the sign language."

As only four shift rotations had elapsed since the Enterprise had began scanning the planet, they didn't have much more to cover.

Kirk went to his quarters and accessed the video files.


	10. In Which The Aliens Are Suspicious

AN: Yarr.

/AN

In Which The Aliens Are Suspicious

They contacted Starfleet command via a subspace communication with their initial assessments and waited for a response. As they were a good number of light-years from a relay buoy, a real-time conversation was not possible.

Three shift rotations later, they received a reply. Kirk was the first to read it, and his snort of indignation was loud enough to draw the attention of the entire bridge crew. He looked up, and finding all eyes upon him, he sighed.

"Sorry, that was unprofessional of me." He said it blandly, with a carefully neutral expression on his face. His audience's faces registered a mixture of confusion and apprehension. "The wording is infinitely more subtle than the paraphrase I am about to give you, but the powers that be have basically ordered me to not take point on this contact. I am to defer to the expertise of Commander Spock, Lt. Uhura, and Lt. Sharma." Lt. Sharma was one of the few truly veteran members of the crew. She'd been in Starfleet when she was younger, left to pursue a rather successful diplomatic career, then retired and rejoined Starfleet. All before her fifty-fifth birthday.

"No, don't give me that look, Spock." Kirk sighed. "It stings because they felt the need to make it an order, not because I wasn't going to do it anyway."

Spock looked relieved. "I was slightly apprehensive; I had noticed a tendency of yours to make decisions against your own best interest, merely because the people issuing those instructions are offensive and obtuse." It took Kirk's brain a moment to process the fact that Spock hadn't said the words he'd expected to hear. He was so surprised that he laugh came out sounding a bit strangled.

"Thanks, Spock. However, I'd like to remind you that I'm a big boy now, and I am not going to jeopardize a first-contact simply because I want to stick it to the man."

"I am relieved to hear it, Captain."

Kirk nodded. "Now, let's make this the best first-contact ever!," he said to the bridge crew at large, clapping his hands together.

Spock's skeptical eyebrow was not enough to puncture Kirk's bubble of enthusiasm.

XXXXXX

Kirk could tell that there was a problem. The communications officers were acting dodgy, and the ensigns would barely talk to him. He sought Spock's opinion.

"It is my understanding that those working on deciphering the aliens' language are not meeting with success." The first officer explained.

"That tells me nothing. Less than nothing, because I already knew that. These people are, I like to think, some of the best linguists in Starfleet. They must speak over a hundred languages between them! We've been here forever and they still haven't made headway."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "We have not been here 'forever.' We have been in roughly the same orbit for only the past 630.59 hours. Additionally, I believe you have inadvertently answered your own question. While linguistics can encompass sign languages, it is my belief that none of the communications members on board are at all fluent in a signed language. Their classes and our technology focus on decoding speech. This is a situation they were not prepared for."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Ok, then how about the Morse code?"

Spock winced faintly. "Having no spoken language and no data on a written language, it is almost impossible for them to begin to decode it. It could be binary, based on an alphabet, or something even more complex. As it is, we have no way of knowing."

Kirk chewed his lip and wrinkled his forehead in exaggerated thought. Suddenly, his expression cleared. "I guess I'll just have to lend them a hand."

Spock should have known better than to look so skeptical, but he did anyway. "I believe that this will be fascinating."

Kirk rolled his eyes and clapped his first officer on the shoulder.

XXXXXX

"_Really_." Uhura said, drawing the word out as she crossed her arms and looked down her nose at Kirk.

"Yup. Been watching the videos. Their sense of humor is really close to ours, sometimes. There's the one show with the boss, uhh…I don't know what to call him." He did the sign which indicated the character's rank. "And, actually, the aliens have a really different culture in some respects. You know how a lot of the time superiors can't show weakness or accept comfort from subordinates? These guys are the opposite. So if a subordinate thinks his boss is hurting, he has to offer a hug or something. They're really big on touching. But the boss is free to rebuff the subordinate's offer. It's actually kind of a mark of favor, because a boss might not need to be comforted, but will accept it if he likes who's offering, and so on. And—" Uhura cut him off.

"Where are you getting all of this? Who have you been talking to?"

"No one, told you, I'm watching the videos." Kirk waved her off. "Anyway, there's this one show where the" he did the motion for boss "has trouble balancing his balance sheet or something, so he always looks really distressed when he's doing it. He's more angry than upset, though. He's embarrassed by his inability to do...whatever he's trying to do. And then whenever his one employee sees him the employee tries to hug him because the boss looks so tense. So he goes in for a hug and it makes the boss even more angry…." Kirk couldn't help it, he chuckled a bit. Then he realized that every person in the communications lab was staring at him. "What?"

"You've learned a completely new language in _three weeks_ by watching videos?" Uhura asked slowly.

"Yep. Hey, isn't that what you guys were trying to do? Don't look at me like I'm crazy. Lemmie show you something." He addressed the room at large. "Everyone here who's fluent in a sign language, raise your hand." Kirk raised his hand. No one else did. At their enquiring gazes, he elaborated. "KSL. Klingon sign language. So don't think of this as your idiot captain suddenly sprouting an extra head; think of this as someone who happens to have more experience in this area than any of you figuring it out first. The second one seems more reasonable, after all."

He fidgeted while his audience mulled this new information over.

"Anyway, I came down here to offer my services and compose a message to the aliens so that we can get this first-contact underway. What do you say?"

A communications officer, Lt. Saitoti, stepped forward. "With all due respect, captain, but how do you know you have it all right? What if the shows are from the wrong region, or use a type of slang? Or what if your grammar and vocabulary aren't very good?"

Kirk nodded. "Excellent point, Lieutenant. Let me ask you a question in return: how would you guys know that you had it all right?"

Saitoti raised his eyebrows, and Kirk knew that he already had the answer. They would have believed they had gotten it all right because it was communications specialists doing it. As it was a captain who had negligible linguistics training, he had _obviously_ gotten something wrong. There was really only one way to test anyone's proficiency in a language no one else spoke; pit him against someone who _did_ know the language.

At this rate, first-contact would never happen. Kirk straightened his posture and erased the humor from his voice.

"I will grant you forty-eight hours. We will make first-contact after that time period has elapsed. Until that time, I will answer any and all questions you pose to me about my understanding of the language. Understood?"

Sometimes, you needed to be captain.

XXXXXX

The two shift rotations came and went without anyone either A, finding fault with Kirk's grasp of the language or B, finding a better way to make contact with the Tripods (Kirk had started to call them this. Spock had pointed out that they didn't have three feet. Kirk then pointed out that they had a tail, which might be a vestigial leg. Spock gave the argument up for lost). These were the two conditions which would result in him rescinding his ultimatum, he explained to Spock. He hadn't meant to, but he was getting used to telling the commander things accidently. Spock seemed more amused than anything, so Kirk wasn't too bothered by it.

Kirk recorded a video of himself giving the standard greeting and the Enterprise's contact details. It didn't take the aliens long to pick up their signal; it was pretty obvious what had happened when radio and video chatter on the planet took a sharp dive. It was safe to say that they knew they were being watched.

It took almost a full shift rotation for the aliens to send a video conference request. It was during gamma shift, and Kirk was asleep. He dressed himself in record time, and was glad that at least these aliens were so different from Humans that they wouldn't know that he wasn't properly groomed.

He was gratified to see that he wasn't the last one to make it to the ready room; Spock was missing. Presumably the commander had been haunting the science labs. The only way you could get further from the bridge and still be on the Enterprise would be if you hung out in a cargo bay. A forth of a minute later, Spock entered. Uhura, once again with the remote control in hand, gave them an 'everybody ready?' look. With nods all around, she engaged the screen.

The aliens were silent, waiting for the Enterprise to make the first move. Kirk stood at the front of the room and greeted them.

He introduced himself (indicating that he didn't know the right sign for his rank, but that he was in charge), introduced Starfleet and the Federation (also fumbling with the signs here), and asked them (very politely) how they were doing.

He wasn't that good at reading their body language yet, but Kirk was pretty sure that this show of mastery surprised and, perhaps, even frightened them a bit. This was borne out by the first thing they said, even before they introduced themselves.

_How long have you been watching us?_

This stymied Kirk, as even if he hadn't lost track of the shift rotations (which he had), he wasn't sure that the Federation's units of time would mean anything. He looked back a Spock, a question in his eyes. Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

Kirk would have slapped himself if he hadn't been in the middle of a first contact. Of course, Spock didn't know what the aliens had asked.

"How long have we been watching them?"

"Approximately seventeen of their days."

Kirk nodded. "Thanks, Commander." He turned back to the aliens, who were looking at the Starfleeters with new interest. Kirk relayed Spock's information to them, then asked to know who he was talking to.

One, wearing something that looked suspiciously like a silver jumpsuit, moved forward.

As far as Kirk could tell, he (he was going to call all of these aliens 'he', because he didn't have a clue what else to call them) was the president of the largest country on the planet. He said that he'd been chosen to be spokesperson, but Kirk got the feeling that he'd strong-armed the others to get the position. Oh well, that's what you get when you try to deal with planets that aren't yet unified.

Kirk asked, _Do you prefer communicating this way, or would you rather we meet in person? We could meet in the ship or your planet._

The aliens seemed nervous. One asked if they could have a moment to confer, and Kirk said yes. The screen went black.

"What just happened there?" Uhura asked, stressed.

Kirk blinked and turned around. All of the other members of the briefing were wearing varying expressions of confusion and distress. "No, no, they just wanted to talk amongst themselves. I asked them whether they wanted to meet in person or continue video chatting." Kirk had tried to teach some communications people the sign language, but Spock was making the best headway. It made sense; the linguists were probably terrible visual learners.

"Captain?" Lt. Sharma asked. Kirk nodded at her. "Are you not supposed to be seeking our expertise before making decisions regarding the contact?" He nodded again, affably. She raised her eyebrows to punctuate her question. He smiled slightly.

"Lt. Uhura drew up an outline for this meeting. You've seen it, correct?" At her nod, he continued. "I have been following it, more or less. They have asked us a few questions that we hadn't bothered to anticipate, but I think giving them answers is pretty reasonable."

Sharma nodded in agreement.

The viewscreen flickered back on.

Jumpsuit said, _Where is your ship located?_

Kirk replied, _At the edge of your solar system._

Jumpsuit was still for a moment, then, _We would like to meet in person. Do you have means of transporting yourselves down to our planet?_

Kirk asked them for a second, then turned and faced his crew. "It sounds like they want us to go down to the planet to meet. What do you say? How should we transport ourselves down?"

"Let us converse, Captain." Spock requested. Kirk nodded, and turned to talk to the aliens.

Jumpsuit and co. were looking uncertain. _You use a different method of communication amongst yourselves, yet you have a mastery of our language. Forgive us, but we find it difficult to believe that you have been only monitoring us for only seventeen days._

Kirk waved his hands thoughtfully in the method they used to convey agreement. _It is true that our main method of communication is through sounds, but we are not unfamiliar with languages like your own. I already speak one such language, so it was not difficult to learn yours. Though my vocabulary is certainly lacking. There is a limit to what I could learn from watching your video channels that we picked up._

_You are examining our communications?_ The question started before Kirk had finished his last sentence.

Kirk frowned. _We needed a way to learn your language._

Now they were clearly agitated. _We must ask you to stop at once! Some channels carry sensitive information, and we cannot know which ones you are accessing._ _If you require videos, we can send you videos._ Kirk waved his hands in agreement once more, and turned back to his crew.

"They don't look happy, Captain." Uhura said cautiously.

"Yeah, well, I told them how I learned their language, and now they want us to stop picking up their communications channels. Which seems like a reasonable request; after all, Starfleet wouldn't be happy if the roles were reversed." Uhura nodded and sent a command to whoever was covering her station.

"Lt. Sharma, Spock, reached a conclusion yet?"

Spock nodded slightly. "Yes, Captain. We would prefer to use a shuttle." Kirk understood. He and Spock had been purposely vague; he didn't want to mention beaming or the fact that a shuttle would give them a better chance of surveying wherever the meeting's being held. Also, a shuttle could have a few security guards added. They didn't want to say this out loud because there was a chance that the aliens would learn Standard sometime. It wouldn't do to have them rewatch the first contact video and find Starfleet plotting deception so blatantly.

They wrapped up the meeting, Kirk relaying coordinates and time to Spock, rightly assuming that he'd figure it out.

XXXXXX

After the meeting was adjourned, Kirk retreated to his quarters to continue his education.

A few hours later, he was interrupted by chime at his door.

"Come." He called.

Spock entered. Kirk stood up. "How can I help you, Commander?"

Spock rightly interpreted these actions as being Kirk's way of teasing Spock for his formality. He straightened his back even further, though how that was possible Kirk would be hard-pressed to say, and answered, "I wished to speak to you on the subject of your recent behavior, Captain."

Kirk laughed. "I can't top that, Spock. Take a seat?"

Having been declared the victor, the commander graciously ensconced himself in a chair.

"Why did you not inform anyone of your proficiency in the alien language sooner?"

Kirk chuckled, but it was not an amused sound. "I was afraid they wouldn't believe me."

Spock leaned forward. "Why did you think this?"

"Even after my practical demonstration, the communications ensigns only grudgingly admitted that I knew what I was doing. I mean, how can they tell whether I can speak a language that they can't?" He waved his hands vaguely in the air. "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, or something like that."

"That does not seem logical. One should not be more difficult than the other, and asking for permission beforehand can result in the avoidance of many misunderstandings."

"Yes, but what would've happened if I'd brought it up before I really knew what I was doing? If I'd mentioned that I was in the process of learning it? I'd get, 'Oh, that's nice, Captain. Now let the linguists do their jobs.' I'm pretty sure that the crew doesn't still think I'm the idiot I first looked like, but they're definitely not going to believe I can do this. Like, a while ago Chapel mentioned that people'd been noticing that you and I were talking about the theoretical space-time stuff, and they thought it was a symptom of mental illness!" Kirk covered his face with his hands in an approximation of melodramatic despair. For an instant after he'd removed his hands, a look on annoyance and…anger?...flitted across Spock's face. Kirk frowned.

"What's the matter?" His friend's face had returned to its normal neutrality.

"Nothing, Captain." Kirk signed.

"No, really. What is it?"

Spock shifted a bit. "I have noticed the crew's tendency to…underestimate your mental acuity. Several of the scientists on board have made less-than-respectful comments while you are not present." Kirk winced. He chewed on his lip while he thought.

"First, let me point out that I kind of ask for that. I tend not to let on how much I actually do know, unless I'm talking to you. A psychiatrist might come up with a different reason, but I think it has something to do with wanting to set peoples' expectations for me really low. That way I can't disappoint." Kirk sighed. "I really have to work on fixing that." He clapped his hands together, signaling a change in topic. "Anyway, my first thought is to dismiss it; after all, I really don't understand _everything_ that they tell me. Just most of it. Typically, I don't go out of my way to disprove people when they think I don't understand something. And I don't mind a few jokes at my expense. But if they really disrespect me—if they really think I'm an idiot—then it's possible that they won't give me all the information I need when there's a crisis, or they'll try to manipulate my decisions because they think they know best." He leaned forward. "Do you think this is something I need to be worried about?"

Spock nodded in such a subdued way that it was obvious he thought it was the latter option. However, he said, "My first thought was disrespect; however, I find it difficult to interpret the actions of Humans that are not yourself." Kirk chuckled at that. "I would like more time to observe. If there is a crisis, I can assure you that they would not obfuscate while I am present."

Kirk nodded. "Ok, I think I can deal with that. We will have to address this sometime, but I'd rather get any information and opinions I need from you, anyway. You have the best idea of what my level of knowledge is."

"That will not be a problem, Captain."

XXXXXX

Kirk curled up in his hammock-bed with a sigh. The Tripod's planet had a rotation of approximately forty-two Standard hours which meant that, although it had been day the entire time he was on the planet, as far as Kirk was concerned he'd been questioned for almost two shifts straight. He wasn't allowed to eat any of the food he'd been offered (granted, none of the landing party were, but that was hardly consolation), and the humid climate had left him feeling almost unbearably grungy. Plus, the gravity was slightly less than that of Earth, so he had misjudged the force needed to climb a set of stairs and tripped.

He was also really worried about how the first-contact was going. Yeah, ok, these guys had suddenly found out that They Are Not Alone and all that, but he was seeing substantial evidence that they were having a difficult time realizing that, while the Starfleeters were not 'people' (as the aliens understood it), they were 'people-like.' Sometimes, Kirk caught Jumpsuit (arrogant bastard that he was) giving the landing party the sort of look you'd give a squirrel that started helping you with your trig homework. In other words, they did complicated tricks and had cool toys, but it was entirely possible that the Tripods would be able to, without much difficulty, resign the Starfleeters to the category of intelligent animals.

He would have to brainstorm with Spock, Sharma, and Uhura to figure out what they could do to prevent that.

He sighed, then forced himself out of the hammock to explore the hotel-like room he was in. The Starfleeters still hadn't found any evidence (as far as they could tell) of a written language. Maybe the Tripods had been kind enough to leave their equivalent of a bible in the nightstand, or something. It was worth a try.

There was a folding door which opened to reveal a surprisingly normal closet. There was something that looked like one of the tiny robot-vacuums from the beginning of the 21st century on the floor, and stacked on the shelves were sheets and pillows. Out of curiosity, he grabbed one of the pillows and fluffed it, trying to judge what it was stuffed with. He breathed in an unfamiliar scent, and then his airways started to close.

He hadn't had an allergy attack this bad since his first year at the Academy, but he knew what he had to do. He grabbed him comm and tried to call Spock while he lurched across the room for the backpack he'd been toting around all day. No one was picking up his comm call, though. He paused in his mad dash to take another look at his communicator. Yes, it was on. Yes, it was connecting with the commander's comm. But still no one was picking up. In a fit of annoyance and desperation, he set to toggling the call/end button in the hope that that might catch Spock's attention.

Turning back to his bag, he thought _please please please McCoy_, and upended the bag on the floor. His hands were shaking, but at this point it was probably equal parts oxygen starvation and panic. This made it more difficult to undo the zippers on the smaller compartments, but he eventually managed it and emptied those, too. He sank to his knees and spread the contents around searching for the stylus-like object, but each passing second his body felt heavier. He thought he could hear someone speaking in the background, but his ears were ringing so he couldn't be sure. His breath wheezed through what felt like a straw-sized opening in his throat, and any second now he was going to decide that forcing such a tiny bit of air through such a miniscule opening was way too much work, this all was way too much work what if McCoy hadn't packed the pen what if he didn't find it what if it wasn't there to find what if….

His narrowing eyesight settled on the object of his search. He tried to grab it but his fingers didn't seem to be working right or maybe it was too far away. It seemed to be moving or maybe he was moving because suddenly the floor was next to his left eye and he couldn't see the pen anymore. He grabbed at whatever was within his reach and it was hard to tell if he had reached it because his fingers were tingling but it didn't matter because it wasn't like he could see which end was the right one anyway.

His vision went black.


	11. In Which It Is Not The Pillow

AN: Thank you to all the lovely people who have been reading and/or reviewing. You are wonderful, and there certainly is (might I remind you) a completely positive correlation between number of reviews and update speed.

/AN

In Which It Is Not The Pillow's Fault

When he came to the first thing he noticed was that something was digging into his back. It was very uncomfortable, and he was probably going to have a bruise. He tried to move but his arms felt heavy, and that's when his brain finally realized that something must have gone very, very wrong.

His ears switched back online, and he was treated to some very familiar ranting. He logged it as being inconsequential and put all his concentration into giving his rescuers some indication that he was now conscious.

"Mmmmrpgh."

The ranting paused and a cold hand was placed on his forehead for a second and then quickly removed. He forced his eyes open.

He was on the transporter pad. Spock and McCoy were kneeling on either side of him. He took in a blessedly easy breath of air (despite the fact that his throat was killing him) and raised his eyebrows at his rescuers.

"Goddammit Jim, what set you off this time?" McCoy's face was lined with worry.

Another breath, and he managed to find his voice. "The pillow?"

McCoy huffed. "Pillow? Seriously, kid?" The doctor rolled his eyes. "Spock, go back to the planet and grab the _pillow_ and get it beamed back to the ship. I'll need to analyze it. Find a bag to seal it up in, or something. Wouldn't want it to set this one off again. And you, Mr. Anaphylactic Shock, are coming back to medbay with me. C'mere, let's get you up." He grabbed Kirk around his bicep and tried to lever him to his feet. Kirk did his best, but he still wasn't much help. He was leaning heavily on the doctor by the time he was on his feet. McCoy reached for his comm, presumably to speak to someone in medbay.

"No, wait!" His voice was raspy, and he really didn't want to be talking right now. The doctor raised an eyebrow at Kirk. "I can't just disappear. I'm the only one who speaks the language."

"Uh uh." McCoy shook his head. "You can send them your regrets through video. I'm not letting you go back to that alien planet with an unidentified allergen on the loose. This may surprise you, but I don't keep a stash of epipens on my person at all times. Oh, look what hitched a ride." His tone had changed from caustic to whimsical in record time. McCoy reached down, and when he straightened up he sarcastically waved Kirk's comm at him. "This must have been comfortable to lay on." McCoy casually clipped the comm to Kirk's belt loop, then commenced dragging him off the transporter pad.

Kirk tried to protest some more, but what could he really do when he had to lean on his kidnapper just to stay on his feet? In no time at all he found himself ensconced in a biobed in medbay.

XXXXXX

The aliens were confused, and Kirk couldn't blame them. His knowledge of the language was severely lacking in biological and medical terms, and trying to explain through charades that a pillow had closed his airways was not going well.

He was still in medbay. McCoy was refusing to let him leave, so he had a portable camera and screen set up on his bed.

In the end, he settled for saying that there was something in the room that had hurt him, and that he would come back down when they'd figured out what it was.

One of the aliens asked how he could be injured and not know what had caused it. He signed it in such a way that he implied that Kirk thought he'd been a victim of witchcraft (or something equally ephemeral). Strike one for convincing the aliens that Humans are reasonable and people-like.

They also wanted to know how he'd gotten back to the ship without taking the shuttle. This time, Kirk used the language barrier to his advantage and said something garbled about emergency transportation.

After that exasperating endeavor, he comm'd Spock to ask how everything was going down on the planet. Frustratingly, the commander seemed more focused on the pillow that had almost claimed the captain's life.

"It was not, in fact, the pillow which you had the reaction to. It was the dried leaves of a plant. The natives find the scent to be pleasing, and it is customary to include a few sprigs when linens are in storage for an extended period of time. Fortuitously, the plant is not in season currently, so it should not be too difficult to avoid contact. I would recommend, however, that we move what discussions we can either to the Enterprise or to video communications. I would not want this to happen a second time."

Kirk laughed slightly. "Don't worry, neither do I." There was a beat of silence on the other end. "There's something else, isn't there."

"Yes." Spock said reluctantly. "It is my belief that you almost died."

"Yeah." Kirk agreed somberly. "But this sort of thing isn't uncommon, with me." He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Spock sigh.

"I am being unclear. It is my belief that you would have died." Kirk blinked at his comm.

"Yes, I would have died if you hadn't gotten to me. That was you, right?" The silence stretched. Kirk was starting to become worried.

"Captain, I am having trouble phrasing what I wish to say correctly. I think that you would have died _in spite of_ my intervention, because my intervention would have come too late."

"Um. What?" Kirk really wished that he could see Spock's face.

"You attempted to contact me, correct? However, I had set my comm to 'silent,' as had Lts. Sharma and Uhura, so as to not interrupt the meeting. The only indication my comm gave to your attempts to call me was a blinking light. It is highly doubtful I would have noticed if I had not been conversing with Lt. Uhura at that time. It was she who directed my attention towards my comm."

Kirk processed this. Ok, he'd been an idiot and almost died because he'd forgotten that Spock's comm was on silent. But…, "How does this translate into my death being inevitable?"

"I was too late, Captain. Or, I would have been. I cannot say this with absolute certainty as perhaps my impressions were altered due to the adrenalin in my system, but I think this is true: time froze."

"And…here, you're not using it as a figure of speech, are you?" Kirk asked reluctantly.

"Correct. Lt. Uhura has told me that she did not actually see me exit my room. I was simply gone. Also, she did not hear me call your name or knock on your door, despite the fact that my room was immediately adjacent to yours and that I had left my door open when I exited. I distinctly remember opening your door with enough force that, in retrospect, the knob should have punched a hole in the perpendicular wall. There was no damage. I possess no more tangible evidence, but this fits with…some of our experiences where Safe Mode is concerned."

Kirk stared at his comm as his thoughts whirled. The commander thought that Kirk would have died of time hadn't frozen. What the hell was Spock trying to say, that whatever was causing these time freezes had a vested interest in his survival? That seemed…weird, and pretty unscientific. So far, all the research they had conducted had been based on the assumption that time freezes were a relatively natural phenomena—like earthquakes and black holes. But this, this was implying the existence of a higher power. Well, in the very least, the existence of a more powerful power than Humans were aware of.

"Captain?" He heard the voice coming from his comm, but it seemed to be coming from improbably far away.

Ok, maybe this was unscientific, but maybe it also made more sense. After all, what possible reason would a natural phenomenon have for singling out a Human and a half-Vulcan? None. He refused to ask himself what reason a higher power would have for singling out them both because he didn't think he'd like the answers.

"You said this correlates with other experiences?" He asked weakly.

"Indeed." Spock confirmed. "I can recall at least one instance in your past where you would have died if time had not frozen." Tarsus IV, Kirk mentally filled in. "I have also had one such experience. The threat to my life was not as…explicit as it was in your case, but I have reflected on the circumstances and find my conclusion to be the correct one."

"When was this?" Kirk couldn't keep the shock and worry completely out of his voice.

"It was many years ago." Spock hedged. "Now is not the appropriate time for such discussions."

Kirk laughed faintly. "Yes, now's the perfect time to posit that we've got our very own guardian angels watching out for us, but let's not talk about our near-death experiences." He knew he was being a bit unfair, but this was more than he wanted to deal with at the moment. Really, all he wanted to do was sleep.

"I suggest that you get some rest, Captain." Kirk twitched involuntarily. How the hell did Spock know? "The sooner you are recovered, the sooner we will have our translator back."

"Hah, because translating's all that I'm good for, right?"

"Indeed, Captain." Spock replied, warmth in his tone belying his impersonal choice of words.

XXXXXX

The aliens refused to set foot on the Enterprise, but they were willing to relegate some conversations to video chat. The away team took the shuttle back up, and after spending twenty-four hours under McCoy's watchful eye, Kirk was permitted to rejoin them and continue the talks.

They were still encountering problems with the natives, though. Kirk didn't know whether this was the opinion of everyone or just Jumpsuit, but they didn't seem to believe a lot of the things Starfleeters told them. They received documents, videos, and other information with poorly-veiled distrust, as though the aliens were sure that these things had been faked. Kirk allowed that, maybe, he could see why they would have trouble wrapping their minds around a multi-xenocultural federation of planets spanning hundreds of light-years. After all, people liked to think that they'd have noticed the existence of something like that; if the Federation had gone unnoticed, it didn't suggest anything good for the existence of other multi-system-spanning entities.

And that was a scary thought. An empty universe is a universe that won't suddenly decide to nuke your planet.

So he could see the logic behind their denial. Spock, though, would point out that they were basing their responses on emotion, not logic, and that the reasonable thing to do would be to keep an open mind. After all, the only logical way to deal with a universe filled with (what you believe to be) nuke-happy superpowers is to align yourself with one of them.

But these aliens were in denial, and after putting up with their scorn and skepticism for hours on end he was about ready to draft a report to Starfleet about the non-viability of this planet and move on. It was telling that, when he mentioned this intention to the rest of the diplomatic team, no one objected too strenuously.

XXXXXX

Right about now, Kirk was grateful for the reduced gravity on the planet. It made running for his life so much easier.

They'd split up; Kirk with Sharma, Spock with Uhura. If the way they were pulling ahead of their pursuers was any indication, the aliens were less quick and had less endurance than Humans. This was also a benefit for the fleeing Starfleeters.

The meeting had been held in a cabin in a rainforest-like area. Now the trees were providing a good amount of cover. They didn't have any particular destination in mind, but that hitch in the plan wasn't really concerning Kirk at the moment. He and Sharma helped each other up a steep embankment and down the other side. He had no clue what the Tripods might be using to track them, but he did know that they mostly depended on eyesight. Logically, that meant that the best way to evade capture was to stick to heavily-wooded hilly areas without clear lines of sight and hope some means of escape would present itself.

Out of the whole situation, what bugged him the most was the niggling question of whether they'd been set up. As far as anyone on the Enterprise could tell, the aliens who had contacted them and asked for a private audience had been sincere. Uhura had created a secure channel for communicating, and Kirk had talked to what, he'd been told, was a persecuted Tripod minority. Every one of the aliens that Kirk had seen before (at the meetings, in the halls, and on the TV programs) had been some shade between emerald and sage green. The ones who had contacted them, however, were purple. They had told Kirk that they were hoping the outworlders would assist them, and that they wished to meet in person in a secure location.

The diplomatic team had been rather cautious, but they also hoped that these Tripods, having been the ones to initiate contact, would be less reticent than their viridian compatriots when asked uncomplicated questions such as, "Do you have a writing system?" They had even beamed a security team down first, in order to get detailed tricorder scans of the bunker-disguised-rather-uncleverly-as-a-log-cabin the plum-colored aliens were residing in.

Everything had checked out. Even Spock professed himself 79.53 percent happy with the safety of the situation.

This was all, of course, before the area had been hit with a low-range electromagnetic pulse.

XXXXXX

Even Kirk, who was no half-Vulcan calculating machine, knew from the beginning that the odds of making a successful escape were vanishingly low. All of their electronics had been fried by the EMP, so there were no comms to call the Enterprise with or tricorders to ascertain their location. They had no clue where they were running to, or even where their pursuers were.

Therefore, Kirk barely even felt a twinge of disappointment when a bunch of Tripods emerged from behind some nearby vegetation and pointed their weapons at the fleeing Starfleeters in a way which required absolutely no translation. Kirk and Sharma raised their hands in the universally accepted "I'm not armed" gesture.

The Tripods issued the captives instructions, naturally, using their native language. As Sharma was far from fluent, Kirk had to translate for her. However, their captors seemed to dislike hearing the spoken language, and every time one of them said something they would get jolted with the butt of a rifle-lookalike or elbowed. It made an already trying time more difficult, Kirk reflected sarcastically.

Eventually they were herded to a clearing, where something vaguely resembling a helicopter was waiting. Kirk didn't know whether he should feel relieved or disappointed to see Spock and Uhura already occupying seats in the transport, looking completely unharmed. Knowing better than to try talking to them, he merely nodded at his crewmembers when he was guided to his own seat.

Kirk wasn't sure what to think. On one hand, they hadn't been harmed or restrained. On the other, no one had offered an explanation. He could see the situation going one of two ways. The first possible path would be the 'we're saving you from dangerous rebels' one. They'll claim that the EMP was not used to destroy their comms and render communication with the Enterprise hopeless. Rather, it was to disable what fortifications the purple Tripods had and affect a rescue mission. After all, the purple ones were obviously inferior, and yet they insisted on equal treatment. Hilarious! Kirk half suspected that the green Tripods would claim that the Starfleeters were going to be held as hostages, if not for the daring liberation which had just been carried out.

Everyone, both the crew of the Enterprise and the aliens, would know that the story was a complete lie. There wouldn't be much point in trying to prove otherwise, though.

The second possible route would be a 'now the outworlders are helpless and we can do what we want with them, muahahah' situation. Kirk didn't really feel like dwelling on that one.

XXXXXX

The latter option seemed to be the one they were stuck with. The aliens prodded the Starfleeters out of the helicopter, through some astoundingly fortified doors, down a hallway, into an elevator which despite its name didn't so much elevate as descend, and finally to a somewhat spacious cell. It probably wasn't meant to be spacious, but as the Humans were smaller than the aliens there was plenty of room.

Kirk and Sharma settled down against one wall while Spock and Uhura took the opposite one. Oddly enough, the floors and walls were covered with some spongy material, so it was surprisingly comfortable.

"I know this isn't much, but at least they didn't split us up. This could be promising." Kirk said slowly. Uhura looked annoyed, and declined to comment. Spock seemed game, however, and raised his eyebrow in an invitation to continue.

"Ok, so as you know, I've been watching a lot of Tripod TV. And along with the whole tactile thing their culture has, they also don't like being alone. Unless it's absolutely necessary, no one will close a door if it means cutting off contact with other Tripods in an adjacent room. And depriving anyone, even convicts, of companionship is considered…for lack of a better word, inhuman.

"However, they don't hesitate to isolate animals. It's considered only logical to give each animal its own cage because then they could not possibly fight and injure each other. For what it's worth, they're treating us like they'd treat themselves. So far, at least." He shrugged uncomfortably, realizing that there probably hadn't been much point to his little lecture. It didn't change the fact that they were prisoners on an alien planet.

Lt. Sharma shifted next to him. Kirk glanced over, and recognized that she had turned to face him. He returned the gesture.

"Captain." She said, looking at him in a considering way. "You seem to know quite a lot about the culture of the natives."

He grimaced. "I wouldn't say a lot. It's just what I picked up while I was learning the language."

"Be that as it may," she continued, turning her head to include the rest of the captives in her discussion, "we could make an effort to 'humanize' ourselves in the eyes of the aliens. As you did, I use 'humanize' for lack of a better word. But maybe if we act in ways they recognize as being behaviors practiced by intelligent beings, then they'll treat us better." She left unsaid that this might lead to a laxity in security they would allow them to escape.

"That makes sense." Uhura chimed in, and Spock signaled his assent with a singular nod.

Kirk realized that they were all looking at him. "Oh, right. Well, at the moment all I can think of is the comforting thing. It's a pretty big part of their culture, and it's why they don't like to be solitary. To them, nothing is as…" he searched for the right word "…as sad, melancholy, lonely, as completely _miserable_ as a Tripod who is hurting but has no one to offer him comfort." Kirk pursed his lips in thought. "It probably also doesn't help our case that we communicate by speaking. Only animals on this planet have vocal chords. So, we might want to rely on charades as much as possible."

Sharma looked at him, shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile, then threw an arm around his shoulder. She pulled him closer, and he scooted down a bit to put his head on her shoulder. Kirk hadn't the slightest clue whether the lieutenant had children (his guess would be not), but she was about his mom's age. Maybe this was why this felt more comfortable than he'd expected.

Across the cell, Uhura and Spock were having more problems. She seemed reluctant to touch him, and he probably had no clue how to initiate any sort of contact. In the end they settled for linking arms, and after half an hour of sitting ramrod straight Uhura gave up and put her head on the half-Vulcan's shoulder.

Still, neither of them looked comfortable.


	12. In Which The Captain's Trachea Is Mauled

AN: Stargate: Atlantis pwns my life. I have no other excuses.

Thank you again to all those who have commented and/or reviewed. You are better than a blizzard at 3am (which is pretty freaking awesome, as it's late enough no one can clean it up before morning rush-hour but early enough that work's called off. I've thought this through.)

/AN

In Which The Captain's Trachea Is Mauled

They hadn't been there for long (Kirk had only just begun to feel hungry) when a video screen inside the cell switched on. There was some clicking—presumably to get their attention—then the Tripod on screen began to sign when he had Kirk's attention.

Kirk sighed and got to his feet. "They want to talk to me." He explained. The others showed various degrees of worry and aggravation, but it wasn't like they were in a position to refuse their captors anything.

Some guards came to retrieve him and he was prodded down the hall to a room that looked like a lab. It was all bright lighting and stainless steel. Surprisingly, the temperature was absolutely frigid. From what he had seen of the planet and its inhabitants, they seemed to be most comfortable in a tropical environment. It felt like the lab wasn't much above freezing, and Kirk's hands instantly began to stiffen.

They stuck him in a chair with hastily modified body restraints. They didn't restrain his hands, however. Yet another instance in which they were treating him as they would themselves.

It didn't look like they wanted to ask him questions, though. Mostly they conducted scans, took blood and tissue samples, and performed other medical examinations. He quickly lost track of time, concentrating as he was on studying his surroundings and convincing himself that he was warm.

The latter was a battle eventually lost.

He started to shiver, and it didn't take the scientists long to realize that something was wrong. They asked him, and he indicated that the room was too cold. This seemed to confuse them (though why it would Kirk had no idea. They were all wearing three time as many layers as he'd typically seen Tripods wear, so it was obvious that they felt the chill), but they eventually sent a lab tech to fetch something. They were careful to keep their backs to Kirk while they were talking, so he hadn't much clue of what was going on.

Kirk decided that it was too freaking cold to keep watching them, and instead wrapped his arms around himself in a pitiful effort to conserve heat. His ears, face, fingers, and outer layer of skin felt numb. Someone approached him, and distantly he could feel some of the lab techs covered him with blankets. He opened his eyes and attempted to find the edges of the blankets with his hands to better wrap himself up.

His breathing had been shaky because of the shivering; each stuttering intake of icy air had been followed with an equally jittery exhale. Oddly enough, now that he finally had the chance to warm up, it was becoming even more difficult to breath. He struggled to get air into his lungs, and a familiar wheeze spiked his lagging memory.

His eyes opened wide, now he was fumbling with the blankets in an attempt to free his arms. The aliens obviously thought he'd gone insane, and they kept trying to cover him back up. Finally, he liberated his right arm and signed frantically for them to stop. They reluctantly complied, and without interference he gained use of his other hand without difficulty.

_I can't breathe_ he managed, as the edges of his vision began to darken.

XXXXXX

The Tripods were gentle as they escorted Kirk back to the cell. Two walked on either side of him, supporting his weight. He wasn't really up to walking on his own, yet. Plus, he was still _freezing_.

They even escorted him into the cell, and waited until Spock, seeing his captain in distress, leapt forward to take his weight from the aliens. As soon as it was obvious that Spock had a hold on Kirk, the Tripods exited the cell.

There was tense silence as Spock led him to a wall and helped him sit against it. Then the half-Vulcan sunk down beside Kirk, much closer than usual, and asked, "Captain, what happened?" worriedly. Green-tinged hands lifted Kirk's eyelid and ran over his scalp. Kirk guessed his commander was checking him for a concussion, and his thoughts skittered after that line of inquiry. Did he look concussed? Was he concussed? His head didn't hurt, but then again it felt as though most of his nerves had been relocated to his throat and _burned_….

Throat. Uhura and Sharma had gathered around their commanding officers, also asking worried questions about his wellbeing. Spock had moved his examination to the bandage around Kirk's neck...

Kirk grabbed at the hand, and Spock looked at his face. The half-Vulcan was clearly distressed. Kirk gestured at his throat, then opened and closed his mouth silently. Spock's eyes widened.

"You cannot speak?"

Kirk nodded. Sharma settled down close to him, trying to offer what comfort she could.

"What did they do to you?"

Kirk made a few gestures in the Tripod language, then aborted his efforts when he remembered that they were useless. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus his mind and _think_….

Spock shifted beside him. Kirk opened his eyes, and Spock raised his hand and brought it within a centimeter of the captain's face, expression clearly asking permission. Kirk smiled with relief and nodded slightly.

Kirk was hardly a connoisseur of mind-melds, but instantly he could tell that this one was different than the one he'd experienced previously. This _Spock_ was different. It was bizarre.

When he'd melded with Spock Prime, he'd gotten an impression of everything the elderly half-Vulcan was. Everything that made him up, from the timbre of his voice to the culturally incorrect smile on his face to the insatiable curiosity he felt in the world around him, was there. It was as if these qualities were suddenly tangible, quantifiable, solid. Even after the meld ended, Kirk was left with an impression; an inexplicable familiarity with Prime that he wasn't sure would ever fade.

Now, melding with Spock the Younger, Kirk was hit with a disorienting feeling that reminded him of looking at a picture of his mother when she was a child. On the surface, the differences overwhelmed the similarities. But looking more closely….

Oddly enough, there were some aspects of Spock that he recognized in himself. His friend had dropped hints here and there about how he had been treated (badly) back on Vulcan, but it took a mind-meld for Kirk to realize how eminently _logical_ it was for his stoic first officer to have taken a post on a space ship full of 'illogical' Humans. After all, it was one of the few places that no one would be able to find fault with the fact that he was half Human. Spock had been raised on a planet that valued cold logic, and he had placed himself in an environment where, relatively speaking, he was an unemotional outlier.

On Vulcan, he had—correctly or otherwise—been ostracized and taunted because of a perceived emotionality. On the Enterprise, he was frequently complimented (whether the speakers meant it that way or not) on his emotional control. Hell, looking at it that way, McCoy was constantly singing Spock's praises!

The perfect opposite would have happened had he stayed on his home planet. Kirk vaguely remembered Spock mentioning some sort of science academy, and at the time he had asked innocently why he had chosen Starfleet instead. The answer he'd gotten was something bland and meaningless, but now Kirk knew the answer: Spock would have never been comfortable.

And Kirk could relate to that.

Spock probably wasn't as paralyzed by feelings of inferiority as Kirk was, but being surrounded constantly by people who refused to consider you an equal could _destroy_ you. It stripped you of confidence and stole your voice away. Your thoughts slowed and your shoulders hunched in on themselves and everything they said about you became true.

The inertia of their opinions became a self-fulfilling prophesy.

XXXXXX

All it took was a gentle prod from Spock to halt Kirk's spinning thoughts.

_I must suck at this,_ he mused tiredly.

The adrenalin of suffocation and pain and horror was wearing off, and he had to focus now and not fall asleep or else his crewmembers would be left without an explanation for quite a while. He tried to think back to the incident, but his memories kept skipping around like pieces of a song you couldn't remember how to fit together.

There was an impression of eerie quiet. Kirk had been in enough emergency rooms to be familiar with the beeping, and the controlled but urgent voices raised so that they'd be heard above the ambient noise.

None of that here.

He'd thought, blurrily, that they were trying to cut his head off. That, or rip his throat out. He didn't like that part. Time had both stopped and stretched, and he'd thought that he was somewhere else. It had seemed like a logical, even familiar, nightmare at the time. The entire impression was even more vague and distorted than memories he was left with after a night of too much drinking.

He went to the bit where they stitched his throat back up. That was a better part, because he could remember it and he knew what was happening (finally) and he could breathe all on his own without the air from his windpipe bleeding through the hole….

He skittered away from the next sensation that presented itself, that of returning to consciousness with a tube shoved into the bloody mess that was his neck, of having something that wasn't him pump air in and out….

Spock ended the mind-meld, and after a moment of hesitation slung his arm around Kirk's shoulders, pulling him close.

"From what I can understand, the aliens were forced to perform a medically uninformed emergency tracheotomy on the captain." Kirk heard Spock explain to their audience.

There was a beat of silence. Sharma sat down on his other side, and Kirk drifted off as Uhura asked, stress causing her voice to span octaves,

"_What_?"

XXXXXX

The aliens looked chagrined.

There were three of them, and they'd entered the cell and taken seats near the wall opposite the door. Their physiology meant that they were more comfortable sitting on their own instead of leaning against a surface.

One of them—Kirk wasn't in the mood to bestow descriptive names upon them—began to gesture. He almost rolled his eyes; they'd rendered the one person capable of understanding their language mute (he hastily edited that thought to a hopeful _temporarily_ mute). He didn't want to listen to their apologies and explanations, but he knew that was childish. Considering how mortified the Tripods looked, the best bet for the Starfleeters getting released would be to make them feel even worse. If he could make them feel inadequate and powerless—if he could take the dominant role in this conversation—then he would probably get his way.

He was feeling ill enough—and pissed off enough—that he was sure his recently-developed captainly tendency to be understanding and see both sides of the issue would be repressed.

The alien said: _We are deeply sorry for what had happened. We meant you no harm. What happened to you has made it clear to us how little we know about your species. We had simply wished to run some tests and observe your interactions. But we fell into the trap of thinking that you were too much like ourselves. We hope we have not damaged you permanently._

They thought the Starfleeters were like the Tripods? Well, that was one plan that backfired.

Kirk signed,_ It is clear how little you know about us. I have no way of knowing whether I will recover from this._ He waved at his neck. _It is quite possible that I will be damaged for the rest of my life due to your incompetence._ He sincerely hoped this was not the case. After all, modern medicine could do spectacular things, couldn't it? But, as Spock would say, speculation was useless. _My best chance of recovery lies in my vessel. Will we be allowed to return?_

The spokesperson jumped on his question enthusiastically. _Yes, as soon as you wish it. We simply wanted to speak with you before we took you out of the cell. We are not sure what triggered the reaction we witnessed, but we are afraid of accidentally causing another one._

Kirk almost laughed at this. It wasn't like they'd have to make another hole in his neck, or anything. The damage had already been done.

_To avoid any unnecessary…reactions…_ he instilled his gestures with as much ponderous sarcasm as possible _...perhaps you could furnish us with a communications device and we could arrange transport from here?_

The spokesperson immediately sent one of his companions to find some sort of radio. It was a mark of how much their status had changed that no one was bothering to close or lock the cell door anymore.

While they were waiting, Kirk figured that he might as well get some more answers.

_What the hell happened, anyway?_ At their confused looks, he tried to elaborate. _Getting chased through the woods, abducted, locked in a cell…what was the logic in any of this?_

The Tripods shifted uncomfortably. Apparently, this was one hell of a story.

And it was.

Kirk didn't bother asking for explanations for many of the signs he didn't understand. From the context, they mostly referred to people and organizations, and he didn't know enough about the political and social systems on the planet for additional information about the people to mean anything. In spite of this, he tried to piece together as much as he could.

If the treatment the Starfleeters had been subject to seemed a bit bipolar, it was because it was. The abduction had been masterminded by one group, and the incarceration and testing performed by another. The purple aliens had been sincere in their plight, and innocent as to what their request for a meeting would turn into. They were indeed a hunted minority, and the diplomatic team's abductors' main objective had been to capture and/or exterminate the purple ones. It had been the Humans' alien life signatures that had led the viridian Tripods to the cabin.

Whoops.

The abductors could have cared less about the Starfleeters, but the incarcerators wanted to study them. So, the two teams struck a deal. After all, it had been the incarcerators' technology that had led the abductors to the cabin in the first place. Their two lines of work had dovetailed beautifully.

Apparently the incarcerators, the scientists, were representing a large scientifically-minded conglomerate. As they weren't representing a country (it sounded as though their sovereignty definition closely resembled that of Earth), they had no legal right (under the laws of H13-Theta59.15 Ae) to access to the first-contact meetings. But these were the Mulders of the Tripod people. They wanted to believe. And oh how they did.

For example, they believed that they were entitled to study the aliens, if only just a little bit. They also believed that they were the best ones to make first-contact, and the best ones to determine the veracity of the aliens' claims.

They were arrogant bastards. Not too unlike Humans, in that regard.

They had the feeling that the Starfleeters wouldn't consent to be studied if asked nicely. (Kirk decided that he'd downplay this part while relaying the information to Spock; no need to have Kirk's claim that it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission reexamined.) So they'd stuck the Humans in a cell—more to make sure that they wouldn't wander away than anything else—and commenced the examination. The Tripods had been planning on holding them until they complained of hunger or something else the Tripods knew they couldn't provide without risking becoming unwitting murderers. The fact that this had almost happened anyway, without any of the captives ingesting alien substances, had freaked them out more than a little bit.

So Kirk, Spock, Uhura, and Sharma were being released ahead of schedule.

Or maybe not. Kirk was feeling pretty damn hungry.

XXXXXX

Uhura managed to contact the Enterprise, despite the alien make of the transmitter. The facility they were in was far enough underground that the Enterprise wouldn't have found the landing party's life signals if they hadn't been shown where to look.

Kirk waved a sarcastic goodbye to the Tripods who were standing outside the Starfleeters' former cell right before he felt the dematerialization start.

He was running a fever; the only reason he materialized on the transporter platform in a vertical position was that Spock was supporting him. McCoy instantly leapt on the captain, muttering worriedly all the way. Apparently Uhura had managed to fill McCoy in on some of the details of Kirk's injuries, because the doctor instantly began scanning his throat and head.

Once McCoy was satisfied that the captain was in no immediate danger, he pried Kirk away from Spock and dragged him to a wheelchair he had standing by.

Sitting in the chair while McCoy took a few more readings, Kirk was overcome with a feeling of utter _powerlessness_. He couldn't speak. He was able to say 'no' to people without words—a shake of the head, a frown—but he couldn't explain _why_. And the why was the important bit. He wasn't ever sure he'd met a person who took a 'no' at face value—that the simple fact that he didn't want to do something was enough to veto it.

And that was only the beginning. Without a voice, people stopped giving you choices. They didn't bother asking what he'd prefer to do, because often he couldn't pick by pointing. And even if he could pick, he were still missing the always needed _why_. Because it wasn't enough that he wanted to go left, or wear the red shirt, he had to have a _reason_.

And he thought it'd be different, he'd _feel_ different, this time, because this time he is different; he's _physically_ unable to speak. No post-traumatic stress disorder, no inferiority complexes; he is willing but _unable_ to speak. And that should make a difference.

But it didn't. It didn't change the way people treated him, and that was the problem. Whether his reasons for not talking were physical or psychological—he'd had both—he still wasn't talking, and wasn't able to explain his decisions.

Another part of his mind pointed out that he was overreacting. He was basing his assumptions on the actions of McCoy, a man who always treated him like a person and almost never listened to him when there was a medical emergency happening. Of course the doctor wasn't going to take one look at his feverish, bandaged captain and say, "Would you like to walk or take the wheelchair?" Voice or no voice, Kirk would have never been given the choice. And he was fine with that.

Under any other circumstances.

He tried to take a few breaths to calm the panic clawing its way up his ravaged throat. He felt a hand clasp his shoulder. Looking up, he found that it belonged to his first officer.

Spock was looking down at him in concern. "I will be on the bridge."

Kirk nodded, mentally translating his friend's words. _My duty is to be on the bridge, so I cannot go with you to medbay._ It wasn't that he was actually hoping Spock would go with him; he much preferred having the person he trusted most at the helm of the Enterprise. It still didn't change the fact that he didn't want to be left alone with McCoy in Doctor Mode, or that he needed someone who was able to speak to fill the doctor in on everything that had happened while they were in captivity.

He made eye contact with Spock, then looked at Sharma and back at Spock. The half-Vulcan acknowledged the request with a nod.

"Lt. Sharma? I realize that we have just been returned to the ship after spending 7.94 hours as captives, but I hope you would not find accompanying the captain to medbay to be objectionable? Doctor McCoy may have questions that the captain is currently unable to answer."

"Not at all, Commander." She said graciously.

XXXXXX

Spock tried to make a point of not hovering around medbay. It wasn't much of a success because, as McCoy remarked, it was replaced by 'conspicuous not-hovering.' The commander pointedly only made his visits when he had some sort of official question to pose to the captain. It took McCoy a while to work out how the half-Vulcan managed to make his appearances only when Kirk wasn't asleep or undergoing medical treatment—he had a confederate in medbay. It only took a little searching after that conclusion to turn up the identity of the accomplice: Nurse Chapel.

He'd had a brief but heartfelt struggle over whether to make known to the involved parties what he'd worked out.

"So," he said, leaning on the wall next to where Chapel was organizing a cupboard stocked with medical supplies, "how long have you been Spock's wingman?"

XXXXXX

"Good to see you alive, Captain Kirk." Admiral Pike said, attempting to suffuse his face with cheer. It was a losing battle, as evidenced by his opening words. The fact that he couldn't find anything better to say than to remark on Kirk's continued presence in the land of the living meant a lot.

Kirk nodded slightly and mustered up a small smile for his former mentor.

Spock leaned forward slightly to bring attention to himself. "The captain is, as you may have been informed, still recovering. Doctor McCoy has surgically repaired his trachea, and seems fairly confident when forecasting the captain's recovery. However, he is not to attempt speech until the swelling and infection have gone down significantly."

Pike's gaze wavered between the two of them. Kirk thought that it must be because Pike really wanted to watch the captain (his poker face was nothing on Spock's), but general intergalactic courtesy dictated that the listeners look at the person speaking.

Kirk thought Pike looked a little like a dog presented with a crew toy that kept being waved back and forth.

It was only going to get more complicated; Spock had been working hard on increasing his understanding of the Tripod's language so that Kirk could relay information without melding or writing it down. Now, for the purposes of this conversation, he would sign and Spock would translate.

Kirk executed a few simple hand motions, and Spock said, "The captain wishes to convey his greetings, and also the observation that you are looking well." Pike raised an eyebrow. Kirk rolled his eyes and lightly smacked Spock on the shoulder. This only caused the Admiral's eyebrow to raise further. Kirk closed his eyes in despair while Spock looked on in what was probably feigned confusion and sincere superciliousness.

Pike watched this wordless exchange with interest. After it seemed the two were done he said, "So, aside from what little we have gotten from the Enterprise since the return of the diplomatic team, I have no idea what has happened since Kirk filed that barely civil missive complaining about the distrustful aliens about a week ago." The captain had the grace to look repentant, or at least slightly apologetic. Spock jumped in and related all that had befallen the landing team, starting from the purple aliens and ending with what he'd learned from a second meld with Kirk after their return to the ship. Unsurprisingly, the commander had managed to glean more from the final talk with the aliens than Kirk had.

Pike nodded throughout the monologue, occasionally asking questions such as "Why didn't Kirk have an epipen?" and "Commander, did you just say, 'they wanted to believe?'" The first question was easily answered; McCoy had been sure to equip him with one, but it must have fallen out of his pocket at some point. The second earned Kirk an exasperated look from Spock. Apparently the half-Vulcan had trouble identifying when the captain was joking when communicating through a mind meld.

"Ok, so let me see if I have the basics down. These aliens, or at least, some of these aliens, practice Nazi-esque eugenics. You guys go down to the planet to talk to the persecuted minority in their secret hideout, because that's always a good idea. The hideout is located by the scientist group of aliens, and all electronics are taken out by a military group which may or may not be composed of mercenaries. You're then captured by the military and handed over to the scientists where Kirk is almost killed by some blankets. They feel so sorry about potentially maiming him for life that they let you go. And you still haven't spoken to your main diplomatic contact, the one Kirk insists on calling some version of 'Shiny Jumpsuit.'

"You have only fragmentary knowledge of the aliens' culture, economic, and political systems, despite the…almost two months you've been studying and meeting with them. You still haven't determined whether or not they've even got a writing system, and the only reason a whole two people on that ship are fluent in the language is because Kirk likes watching TV."

Kirk grimaced at what a toss-up they'd made, and even Spock was looking more emotionally distant than usual. Pike laughed quietly.

"Don't look so morose. I can't make an official decision on how this went until you talk to your diplomatic contact with a questionable taste in clothing. As first-contacts go, you've been better than some. No members of your team are dead. You haven't killed any of the natives. You don't seem to have sparked off any internal or external conflicts. You don't seem to have committed any faux pas that have pissed the natives off and disinclined them from talking to us. You have not stolen or gained any information by force. You have not kidnapped any of the natives." At Kirk's look of incredulity, it was Pike's turn to grimace. "Sadly, that happens more than the Federation'd like to admit. While some of your reports have been disparaging and bordering on unprofessional," he looked at Kirk, "it is clear that your dealings with the natives have been characterized by unexpected tact, at least on the Enterprise's part. Oddly enough, this is a problem we have with many FTL-capable societies when we first make contact. They seem to decide that, as we didn't immediately blast their planet to bits, they are free to be assholes." The admiral paused in thought. "Where was I? Oh, so, you'll probably catch some shit from other Starfleet and Federation officials, but just know that most of it's personal."

Kirk blinked, as his brain caught up with the fact that his ears hadn't heard what he'd expected. He raised his eyebrows at Pike.

"They'll do it because of who you are, not what you did. If it'd been me, I would have been congratulated on not fucking anything up irreparably and given a few months off to recover. But you're new and you're young, which is the complete opposite of 'admiral' on the respect-meter.

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure that they're going to cut your surveying mission short and have you come home. I'll keep my ears open and see what sort of reception they might have planned. You," he said, pointing at Kirk, "are to have a talk with Jumpsuit and immediately report back to me on how that went. I want to hear his take on what happened to you, even if it is a load of crap. And you," he said, turning his gaze on Spock, "are to keep me updated on Captain Kirk's recovery." The captain in question made several motions which would have been squawking if he was allowed to use his vocal chords, but he was quickly stilled by the judicious use of superior eyebrows.


	13. In Which The Captain Croaks

AN: Sorry for the wait, me hearties. These things like classes and apartment moving and garrulous roommates took their tolls on my time. However, the classes are ended (if they try to come back, I have a diploma to beat them off with), the apartment has been moved, and the roommate has gone back whence she came. My sincere hope is that you have not suffered too sorely due to the absence of updates. Or, you know. Something along those lines :D

/AN

In Which The Captain Croaks

This time, Kirk was thankful for the third of a light-year (or 17.5 weeks) that it would take to return to Earth.

XXXXXX

Kirk sighed, and stretched his legs into the hallway. The place was deserted, so he didn't need to worry about tripping anyone. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest on the wall behind the bench he was sitting on. It was nice to be able to relax; to have nothing professional planned for the rest of the day, nothing he had to think frantically about and wonder whether he voice was going to give out during some critical part of his presentation. He'd been reluctantly doing those voice exercises that McCoy had assigned him, but it was really difficult to find somewhere secluded enough to perform them. Having to talk to himself was bad enough—he didn't need anyone to hear the singing part as well. Even before the tracheotomy he'd been pretty tone deaf. After the trauma to his neck…well, it was pretty embarrassing.

McCoy had wanted to rig him with a mic, especially for those interminable meetings and presentations he'd been doing. Kirk was worried that it would be taken as a sign of physical weakness, and used as an excuse to declare him unfit to command. McCoy, almost as if he could read his friend's mind, pointed out that Pike was confined to a wheelchair, but no one thought him weak. What's the matter with a little mic?

Kirk dejectedly brought McCoy's attention to the fact that Pike no longer had 'captain' in front of his name. McCoy mostly gave up on the mic, after that.

He concentrated on his breathing. In, out, in, out. The memory of his recovery was still recent enough that he was content to marvel in the ease of breathing; the smooth whoosh of air, the feeling of control.

He must have jumped half a foot in the air when he heard a voice say, "Captain Kirk! I had not expected to see you here." His eyes flew open and, seeing an admiral standing in front of him, he leapt to his feet and saluted. The man's name eluded Kirk, but by the relatively relaxed set of his shoulders and the curious tilt to his head he guessed that this conversation wasn't going to be too unpleasant. "I apologize for startling you." The man looked slightly amused.

"Uh," Kirk croaked and tried to clear his throat unobtrusively. "Good day, sir." He was having trouble getting back in the habit of keeping track of the time of day. Back on the Enterprise, people would say 'good morning' at the start of a shift and 'good night' when they were retiring to their quarters for sleep. Only the very newest additions to the crew thought the practice odd.

The admiral was still looking at him in the same inquisitive way, and Kirk had to fight the urge to shift uncomfortably.

"Are you…occupied?" The man asked, smiling slightly. Kirk knew it was pretty obvious that he wasn't busy, but it was still a pretty tactful way to ask what the hell the captain of the Enterprise was doing lurking outside the admirals' main conference room.

"No, not at all. Well, I am waiting for the meeting to let out. Commander Spock seemed to think that it would have been over about…" he trailed off and checked his watch "twenty or so minutes ago. We were going to get dinner." Kirk blinked, suddenly connecting his purpose for being in the hall and who he was talking to together. "I guess it's finished?"

The admiral shook his head. "No, regretfully, it is not. It does not look to be finishing up any time soon, either. We have merely been released on a ten minute break. Even this was hard fought for." Kirk smirked a bit, thinking of his first officer stuck in the same situation he had found himself in too many times in the past days.

"I guess I'll just have him message me when he finally makes his escape." He said, wincing slightly. He was about to take his leave when the admiral raised a hand to stop him.

"If I might have a moment?" Kirk nodded in surprise. "Throughout this meeting and others, I have observed some curious behavior on the part of Commander Spock. He seems to regard you as a competent, no, more than competent leader. He seems…comfortable with and supportive of the decisions you make."

Kirk waited for the man to continue, for him to say something that sounded less like he was implying that it was astounding that Spock would ever say anything complimentary about his captain. When nothing else was forthcoming, he tried to keep his face neutral when he said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure where you're going with this." His voice cracked a bit on the 'sorry,' and he desperately hoped that he wasn't blushing because of it.

The admiral looked as though he were considering his words. He pursed his lips in thought. "I phrased that poorly. How have you convinced a Vulcan that you are logical enough for him to trust?"

Kirk figured that he must have a 'I have no idea what's going on' look on his face, because the Admiral sighed and sat down on the bench Kirk had just vacated. At the admiral's pointed look, Kirk took a seat next to him.

"I suppose you do not have much experience with Vulcans?" Kirk nodded his assent. "I have worked with a number over the years. And one thing I have noticed is that, no matter how much a particular Vulcan likes, respects, spends time with, or knows Humans, I cannot say that he _trusts_ Humans. They are brought up in such a controlled and predictable environment that they find us to be rather inscrutable. No matter how well a Vulcan knows a Human, that Human will still, I am told, do and say things which the Vulcan had not been able to forecast using past data. And that Human will also do and say things which the Vulcan is unable to _explain_ using past data. From what I can tell, this distresses them. They seem to conclude that even the most rigorous and logical of Humans may suffer what is, to them, a psychotic break at any moment.

"So, they do not trust Humans. When asked to offer an explanation of a Human's actions, a Vulcan will generally express doubt, claim he does not have enough data, or fall back on the 'emotionality' excuse. They find it difficult to trust our statements, actions, and orders at face value, because each Human is a black box with a constantly changing algorithm. Even if it seems we have made a logical decision, they fear that we have reached that conclusion through illogical reasoning.

"But…" The admiral trailed off, narrowing his eyes at Kirk in a considering way, "This is not the case with Commander Spock. Either he is lying, which is a very unVulcan things to do, or he actually trusts you. I am inclined to believe the latter. Why is this?"

Kirk frowned. "You mean, why does he trust me?"

"Not quite. It is more, why does he feel he can trust you? What makes you less unpredictable than every other member of the Human race?"

Kirk laughed slightly. "I'm pretty unpredictable. Maybe it's not so much that I am not more predictable than other Humans, but that Spock has more data than other Vulcans. We've been spending a lot of time together. Maybe he doesn't feel doubt when explaining my motivations because he already knows them? Maybe it has something to do with the mind meld?"

The admiral looked shocked. "Mind meld?"

Kirk blinked. "Yeah. When we were being held captive. I couldn't speak, so it was the only way I could tell them what had happened."

"Hmmmm." The admiral gazed off into space, but Kirk got the feeling that the admiral still wasn't convinced.

"Maybe I'm not the different one. Maybe Spock is." Kirk offered.

The admiral turned to look at him with what he felt was a slightly condescending look of curiosity. "How would that be?"

"Well, his mother's Human." He pointed out.

"And?"

"And…that means that he grew up with a Human as a mother. Maybe he's used to Humans or is, at least, able to tolerate us better than other Vulcans."

"Nurture, as opposed to nature?" The admiral asked, head cocked.

"Um. I'm really not the person to ask about that, sir." Kirk demurred, feeling that he was getting into dangerous territory. No way was he going to let himself be drawn into a discussion about whether Spock's genetics or upbringing were responsible for making him in any way 'less' Vulcan. The universe's apparent fixation on labeling the commander either 'Vulcan' or 'Human' seemed indecent. And, probably, politically charged.

The admiral raised an eyebrow at Kirk, and it seemed like he was about to say something mildly sarcastic ('Are you sure about that, Captain?" was Kirk's first guess) when he glanced at an antique clock that was hung immediately opposite the conference room doors in the hallway. The admiral looked slightly surprised, then looked at his comm and stood up. "My allotted break-time has passed, and then some. I look forward to speaking to you in the future." Kirk had gotten to his feet a second after the admiral, and whipped off a hasty salute at the man's retreating back.

_That was bizarre_, Kirk thought.

XXXXXX

"Your turn, Spock."

"How is it 'my turn'? I selected the eating establishment which we patronized last night."

"Yeah, but when one person has a dietary restriction, it's _always_ their turn." Kirk said, tapping a finger on the desk for emphasis.

"In which case 'turn' is being used improperly, as it suggests the completion of some cycle." Spock pointed out. Kirk had the feeling that the commander was having the argument on autopilot, as his eyes were glued to the screen of his consol. Most of the Enterprise's crew was on leave, but those whose presence in San Francisco was 'requested' by the admiralty had been put up in generic Starfleet lodgings.

"You can have a cycle of one."

"You cannot."

"Can."

"Cannot. And this argument is unnecessary, as we will not be partaking of dinner together."

"What?" Kirk asked, surprised. The only explanation he could think of for Spock suddenly cancelling their dinner plans was that Kirk had managed to piss him off to such an insane degree with the inanity of the argument that the half-Vulcan couldn't stand the thought of spending another moment In his presence.

"I have just received a message from my mother, informing me that she is in the vicinity and wishes to meet with me over dinner." Oh. That was a good explanation, too.

"Mmm. That works." Kirk said with a shrug, feeling slightly put out and, at the same time, knowing that he was silly to feel that way. He and Spock had been spending a lot of time together, as they were both the most familiar with the Tripod's language and the most accountable for what had happened. Generally, after a long day of meetings and discussions, they'd eat dinner together and go over their impressions of the Starfleeters they had come in contact with. Some of it was helpful; saying the right thing to get an admiral on your side was always a good thing. Some of it was merely interesting.

"Might I make a suggestion?" Spock asked, _then actually paused_ and waited for Kirk's answer. Kirk waved his hand, and the commander rightfully took that as permission to continue. "I believe that a number of crewmembers have planned to meet at a restaurant/bar tonight. Doctor McCoy should be in attendance."

Kirk laughed. "I'm not sure that counts as a suggestion. You didn't actually suggest I do anything." Spock merely raised a pointy eyebrow. He rolled his eyes. "But yes, I'll go."

"Then, might I point out, the effect is the same."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Kirk said with a smile.

XXXXXX

Kirk had agreed to go, despite the fact that he was pretty sure Spock had come to the information via Uhura, probably as a subtle (maybe, as it turned out, too subtle) invitation to spend some time together. But this was the last night that McCoy was going to be in town before he caught a shuttle to Georgia, so there was something to be said for getting out of his rooms.

"How you doing, kid?" McCoy said, by way of greeting. He clapped Kirk on the back and led him to the patio at the back of the restaurant. There was only space for five tables back there, and it was pretty quiet because most of the other patrons were indoors, keeping half an eye on a sports match that was being tracked in the viewscreens mounted on the walls. This made it perfect for their purposes, however. Despite how much McCoy liked to harangue people, it was no fun when their voices were too weak to answer back.

"How's the voice?" The doctor asked as he claimed the seat across from Kirk at a table. Kirk grimaced in reply, and McCoy clucked like a mother hen. "Don't give me that. I'm your doctor. I get to take a professional _and_ personal interest in your recovery." Kirk sighed and rolled his eyes in defeat.

"Some days are better than others."

McCoy squinted at him. "Y'know, I'd tell you to take it easy, but I'm not sure how much choice you have in the matter." Kirk nodded in agreement. "How've the hearings been going? What've you been up to?"

"Uhh." Kirk winced, trying to think more than a few days into the past. His daylight hours had been pretty packed since he'd returned to Earth. Plus, they were missing the familiar structure that command shifts had on the Enterprise. "S'ok, I guess. I think, and Spock agrees, that we don't really have much to worry about. Apparently there're some people—admirals, politicians, whatever—that've wanted to revise the rules of first contact for a while now. They want to add a specialization, or maybe co-specialization track specifically to train people for handling first-contacts, accidental-contacts, stuff like that. This mess has given them the fuel they need to make a serious push."

"So they want to make meddlers who can step in every time they get a whiff of alien contact?" McCoy asked, frowning.

"Ehhh." Kirk broke off, coughing a little. "Sorry. Anyway, it could be annoying as hell, but I don't think Starfleet would let some nerd with every first-contact memorized have the authority to take control of a mission. Maybe they'll make the senior officers take some extra classes, or something. The hilarious thing is, these people are walking a line so fine they sometimes cross it. They can't outright say that I'm incompetent—apparently, my 'saving the planet from time-traveling Romulans' kudos haven't worn out yet. So they're all, 'Well, we believe the curriculum of Starfleet needs to put a greater emphasis on this issue, but we're totally not blaming anyone, it's no one's fault, except, if you'd listened to us in the first place…'."

"Better you than me, kid." McCoy said, raising his glass of beer in a salute to Kirk's suffering.

Kirk kicked McCoy under the table.

"You're such a child." The doctor complained. Then he kicked Kirk back. The blitzkrieg of feet-based attacks lasted longer than either of them would care to admit.

It took them a while to settle down after that.

"So," McCoy said, with a suspiciously casual air to his voice, "How's Spock been doing?"

Kirk had a silent debate with himself over how to answer his friend's question. He could refuse to answer or affect confusion (_'Why, my dear doctor, how would I know?'_) but none of those options would get rid of the gleam in McCoy's eye; the one which belied his feigned lack of interest. His best bet would be to answer as boringly as possible. Not that even that would work if McCoy was in a stubborn mood. He could probably….

"What does that mean?" Kirk looked up quickly at the question. He'd been, for some reason, staring at the food of a woman seated across the patio.

"What mean?" He asked, feeling lost.

"You were signing something with your hands."

"Really? What was it?"

"Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a linguist!"

Kirk shrugged in an I-don't-care way, the sort carefully calculated to annoy McCoy. "How'm I supposed to know, if you won't tell me?"

"_Can't_ tell you. Can't." McCoy stressed. "And anyway, they're your hands! What're you goin' to do, start kicking me and sayin' '_Oh, how'm I supposed to know what my _damnfool feet_ are doin._'?" He said, affecting a high-pitched, saccharine voice for Kirk as he got into the spirit of the moment.

"I don't sound like that at all, mister 'Dagnabbit, Ah'm a doctor, not an astronaut'." Kirk said, purposely putting on a ridiculously exaggerated southern accent. He was so caught up in mocking his friend that he couldn't find it within himself to care that his voice had faded out on the last word.

"'Dagnabbit'!" McCoy countered, outrage making the pitch of his voice rocket up. "Who in the blue blazes do you know that actually says 'dagnabbit'?"

"Who do _you_ know who actually says 'blue blazes'?" Kirk said, triumphant.

That gave McCoy a pause. He looked thoughtful. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I've heard Scotty say it." He mused.

Kirk blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah."

They both sat, brows furrowed, trying to remember a concrete example of a time when Scotty had used the phrase.

"Ehh." Kirk said, giving up first. "Doesn't really matter, I guess."

"Yeah. Stupid argument." McCoy agreed, sipping his beer.

They managed to keep their faces straight for another few seconds before bursting into laughter.

"But seriously." McCoy said, once they'd gotten their breaths back. "I really don't say 'dagnabbit'."

XXXXXX

Amanda was renting an apartment which was specifically set aside for use by diplomats during their short stays on the planet. It was well-furnished in a culturally and aesthetically neutral way. Amanda's personal additions—a few paintings of Vulcan, some pressed plants that Kirk didn't recognize (not that that was surprising), and a couple sculptures of sun-bleached wood—stood out amongst the almost offensively bland decor. When Amanda caught Kirk staring at one of the paintings in a bid to make sense of its subject, she smiled and said, "Home away from home, Captain. When I was away from Vulcan, I would bring along a few pieces of Vulcan art to put around wherever I was staying. It seemed expected of me, sentimental Human that I am. And when I was at home, I would conspicuously decorate with some paintings and pictures from Earth. Also expected, I suppose. Now I find, wherever I am, I bring reminders of Vulcan with me."

Kirk had blinked about that. Amanda had finally given him an explanation to something which had always puzzled him; why did people feel the need to bring mementos from home and set them up in their dorms and quarters? Perhaps it was because he didn't feel much of an attachment to Riverside, but he hadn't seen a point to the degree of sentimentality it seemed to indicate. Were these people really so homesick that flicking open their comms or turning on their computer consoles were too much work—they had to have a physical picture tacked to the wall?

But Amanda made sense. What if these mementos weren't for the owner—they were for everyone else? Amanda reminded every person who visited of the planet Vulcan. Maybe they were there to provoke thought or conversation.

He tried to imagine himself bringing physical memories of Earth with him as he traveled the universe. But everything he imagined—pictures, souvenirs, knickknacks—felt too contrived and insincere. They didn't feel honest, didn't feel like James T. Kirk. It was like he was trying too hard and reaching too far in an effort to make these hypothetical decorations take shape.

He sighed quietly, wondering whether this inability meant anything. What did it say about him that there was nothing from his past that he wished to connect himself to, nothing he wished others would notice and ask him about?

In one way, his past seemed uniformly uninteresting. In another, it seemed too exciting to bear.

Then, a moment of inspiration hit him. Idly, he wondered what it would take for him to get his hands on a picture of the Enterprise, gliding through space.

XXXXXX

Dinner conversation was an exercise in small talk. Amanda and Spock steered the discussion away whenever Kirk made some comment about the purpose of the invitation. Kirk wasn't too worried—if there was a purpose, he'd find out sooner or later. And if Spock was going along with this, whatever surprise they had in store probably was not too nasty.

And so he found himself sitting next to Spock on the couch in the living room after dinner, while Amanda seated herself slowly in the recliner set at ninety degrees to them.

"Thank you for being such a good sport, captain." Spock's mother said with a smile. She had insisted on calling him 'captain' the entire evening. Kirk wasn't sure whether it was meant as a reminder of their previous conversation at Federation Star, whether she was doing it to tease Spock (he half suspected that having Amanda as a mother had been what taught Spock to give as good as he got when it came to banter), or whether she simply didn't want to call him by his first name for reasons of her own. It hadn't taken him long to decide that speculation was, in this case, futile.

"You see, I thought it best to convince Spock first. Once I got him on board, he would be able to help me convince you. Which yes, I know this tells you nothing so far.

"During Federation Star, both you and Spock disappeared mysteriously from where you were—in your case, the stadium the show was taking place, in Spock's case, the government-use transporter station—and appeared almost instantly in a completely different place. Mind you, nothing _exactly_ was caught on tape. The stadium was too dark, Spock was in a blind spot between security cameras, and the street you ended up on was so crowded that you could have been there the whole time. Well, aside from the fact that, according to the time stamps of the video footage, Spock had less than three or four seconds with which to travel six kilometers, as the bird flies. Which is, as you're probably opening your mouth to tell me, patently impossible." Kirk closed his mouth and settled for a look that he hoped would convey confusion and/or skepticism. He glanced at Spock for guidance, then realized that Amanda had probably already gone over the exact same conversation with him. As Spock hadn't spoken to Kirk before the dinner, he had to assume that there was no cover story. They were actually going to tell Amanda some form of the truth.

Then again, maybe it would be smarter to just keep his mouth shut and follow Spock's taciturn lead.

"As far as I know, only one person has noticed and taken serious interest in your disappearing act. That is, as you were wondering, how I know about it. This person is someone I believe can be trusted. He is already familiar with a phenomenon which is similar to the one you seem to participate in, and he wishes to compare impressions. Would you mind telling me how you moved from the stadium to that street in no time at all?"

Kirk looked at Spock, who merely gave a slight nod of his head. For a moment, he had the silly impulse to deny everything, to declare Spock a lunatic and leave the apartment. But the moment passed when he realized that yes, he really did trust his first officer enough to, without any forewarning, spill his story to a relative stranger at the nod of his head.

He took a deep breath, and started his rather disjointed story.

XXXXXX

Mentally, the telling got easier as Kirk met with almost no resistance. Amanda accepted everything he said, and she asked the sort of questions a person asks when she believes what you are telling her and she simply wants clarification on a few points. Physically, his voice had taken a beating that day, and he got so annoyed at its inconsistency he ended up speaking and signing at the same time so that Spock could translate whenever it decided it needed a holiday.

"…and so that's how Spock traveled six kilometers in three seconds." He finished with a grin and a squeak.

Amanda nodded. "Thank you for telling me. I know it can't have been easy. Your experiences correlate with what my mysterious contact told me." She said the 'mysterious contact' bit with a little laugh. It was a term Kirk had come up with during his soliloquy. "I think, knowing this, he'd like to meet you both."

Kirk leaned forward. "What does he want with us? I mean, he must have some important contacts in order to get that security camera footage, especially without drawing anyone's attention. He _did_ do it without drawing attention, right?"

"Yes, yes. He is very discreet. And, from what he has told me, he knew someone who also experienced this 'Safe Mode.'"

Kirk blinked and glanced at Spock. Apparently this was news to him, too, because he asked, "There is someone else to whom this phenomenon occurs?"

"Indeed." Amanda said with a small smile. "Well, occurred. I'd rather let my contact tell you the story himself. You would be amenable to a meeting?"

Kirk shrugged and nodded, and Spock inclined his head in his typically reserved manner.

Kirk felt a stab of hope. Maybe they wouldn't need to look through his school records after all.


	14. In Which They Meet the Mysterious

AN: To those who thought that Spock Prime was going to make an appearance, I feel I should put you out of your misery right away. It's not Spock Prime. Sorry :P Thank you for guessing, though. It shows that you're putting some thought into this, which is _lovely_.

Also, to those who have inquired about my posting schedule: I promise nothing. I've read too many fanfics which say, in their ANs, that they will never be abandoned by the author, yet the newest post was made more than a year ago. I don't want to do that to myself or to you. Therefore: no promises.

I hope you enjoy it, anyway :D

In Which They Meet They Mysterious Contact

The next day, Kirk got a comm message from Spock who'd had a comm message from his mother who had, presumably, had a comm _conversation_ with _le contact mysterieux_ (Kirk was unable to articulate exactly why saying 'the mysterious contact' in French made the whole affair sound a few orders of magnitude more dashing and noir, but he felt certain that it did). 'The mysterious contact' sounded like the title of some B-movie adaptation of a Sherlock Holmes novel. Also, no matter how much sarcasm he used when saying it, he still felt incredibly foolish saying things like "So, dinner with the mysterious contact on Thursday?"

But (as he'd explained to Spock), '_le contact mysterieux'_ sounded like a code-name for an internationally renowned spy.

Spock, true to form, merely raised an eyebrow at this and informed Kirk that his French pronunciation was atrocious.

Kirk then told Spock that he, Spock, wouldn't know dashing and noir if they hit him in the face. Spock raised another eyebrow at this, and the discussion ended there as Kirk tried to remember whether Spock always raised the same eyebrow, or whether he had them on some sort of rotation.

XXXXXX

Amanda was cooking dinner for them again. Kirk felt slightly uneasy about that, as, having never cooked a proper meal in his life, it seemed like entirely too much work to put into something that would shortly be eaten. But his half-hearted offers of assistance had been rebuffed, so he and Spock (having arrived unfashionably early by design) were left twiddling their thumbs in Amanda's living room.

Sitting on the couch, Kirk fidgeted with his hands. Finally, he turned to Spock and said, "Look, I know you're going to say 'no,' because you've been saying 'no' all week so I know that asking this is completely illogical. So we can skip that bit. But, do you know who we're going to be meeting?"

Spock looked imminently amused. When Kirk kept looking at him expectantly, he raised an eyebrow (this one his version of an eye-roll) and said, "No, Captain, I do not."

"Care to speculate? Your mother seems to know this person. Maybe you met him once." Kirk badgered shamelessly.

"I doubt that this is so. If the person's identity had some relevance to my past experiences, I find it probable that she would have shared it with me. In any case, speculation, in this situation, is useless."

"Thought so." Kirk said with a sigh. "Thanks for humoring me, anyway. Again."

"You seem to be more 'worried' than I am about this meeting." Spock observed.

Kirk squinted at his friend. "Maybe I am, at that." He sighed again. "But if she wanted to put us at ease, she's totally going about it the wrong way."

"I must agree. Her choice of tactics is…puzzling." Every time Kirk had asked her about the identity of _le contact mysterieux_ she had dropped a not-hint for him. As in, "Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't know him, Captain" or "He's younger than you might expect" or even, "He comes from a highly respectable family, Captain. I highly doubt that this is some sort of scam."

"Well, she's your mother. You must have some idea what's going on."

"I assure you, I do not. I may have lived a large portion of my life with her, but that does not mean that I always understand her thought processes." Kirk blinked confusedly, trying to pinpoint why what Spock had said seemed so familiar. "The most likely explanation is one that you have already arrived at; she enjoys, as you so colorfully put it, 'toying with your mind'."

Kirk was about to reply (with what, he didn't know yet) when there was a knock on the door. Kirk froze, then felt foolish and stood up. "Do you want us to answer it?" He called into the kitchen.

"No, no, that's fine. Just a sec." She called, the running water indicating that she was washing her hands. She emerged after what Spock would no doubt have identified as 'certainly more than a second' had he not grown up under her care and, early in his life, realized the futility of such observations.

She opened the door. From where Kirk was standing, he couldn't see the person, but he could hear the warmth in the voices of Amanda and the stranger. She even gave him a peck on the cheek. "Oh, do come in." She said, ushering him out of the doorway and towards the others.

Kirk had to admit; for all Amanda's vagueness, she hadn't lied. Kirk doubted the man, the Human, could have been more than five years his senior. The guy was wearing a nondescript black suit with a white shirt, had darkish, somewhat conservatively gelled hair, and was utterly and completely unfamiliar. Kirk glanced at Spock who also, as predicted, didn't seem to know the guy.

"Gabriel," Amanda said, gesturing to the former _contact mysterieux,_ "You already know Commander Spock and Captain Kirk. Spock, Captain, meet Gabriel Lindstedt." A round of handshaking followed, and Amanda ushered her guests over to the dining table before returning to the kitchen. With amusement, Kirk realized that she'd left them to figure out the seating arrangements for themselves.

"I am grateful that you agreed to meet with me." Gabriel said, taking the seat nearest him with, Kirk imagined, the aplomb of one claiming the center square in a game of tic-tac-toe. "It is…exciting to meet two people with your experiences."

The guy didn't look particularly excited. He didn't look particularly _unexcited_, either. In all, he exuded a quiet alertness and possessed the relaxed air of one sure that everything would, more or less, go as planned. He was also, in appearance, dress, and attitude, totally and unmitigatedly bland.

Kirk claimed the seat across from Gabriel, and Spock the seat next to Kirk. "So, it's happened to you, too?" Kirk asked cautiously.

"Ah, no. You see, it was my great-grandmother, now sadly decease, to whom this phenomenon occurred." Kirk restrained himself from rolling his eyes. How the hell had he ended up stuck in a room with _two_ members of the Prescriptive Grammar Sect? "She lived with my parents and was generally the one to tell me bedtime stories. In her younger days, she was also a member of Starfleet. She even commanded a ship, the _Kansas_, for over a decade. It was small, mostly for surveying scantily explored parts of space and taking scans of things Starfleet might find interesting." He waved his hand vaguely to indicate that he'd never paid much attention to that part. "She told me stories of her adventures while serving in Starfleet. Obviously, some parts were embellished and others completely repressed, but as far as I can tell, they generally had some basis in truth. And sometimes, she would tell me stories where time was stopped." Gabriel paused his story as Amanda called for them to come help her carry the food out.

Once they were settled again, he resumed, "I believed every story in the way a child does. This was a person I knew telling me things that had happened to her; obviously, every detail was true. Once I became older, I was confronted with the fact that not everything she had told me was…accurate, especially after I handed in a report to my teacher in 4th grade detailing my great-grandmother's involvement in the Crisis of Gren Elthos." He smiled a bit at that. Kirk forced himself to not fidget with his food. For some reason, he didn't feel like eating until he'd heard the rest. Did this guy have nothing more than bedtime stories to give them?

"Hurry up, dear." Amanda said to Gabriel lightly. "We can always fill in more details, later." She winked at Kirk, and he resisted the urge to make faces at her.

"So, just as I spent my pre-teen and teenage years convinced that my Nana had told me a great load of lies, I spent my university years realizing that, perhaps, she _hadn't_. I spent those years combing over every report or tidbit of information I could gather from her service years, and many of the accounts and events felt strikingly familiar. I spoke to people who had served with her. And…I realized there were a few instances where things simply did not add up. There was one instance where she was performing an EVA—this was before she was a captain—and her tether broke. Everyone was sure she was lost. This was more than fifty years ago, remember. The ship didn't have any small craft with precise enough maneuvering capabilities for rescue. Plus, she had been knocked away from the ship with a fair amount of force; her maneuvering thrusters were not powerful enough to bring her back to it.

"And yet, it seemed like no more than an instant later that she was keying in the code to open the EVA hatch. They had seen her blip, on the scanners, as she drifted away. And yet, she had, apparently, never left. She laughed it off, told them the scanners must have been faulty. 'No other reasonable conclusion,' the report said. But" he shrugged, "I had heard a different, a _fantastically_ different, version of the story. One about punching a Human-shaped hole in a cloud of space dust, frozen in motion. One about calculating angle, momentum, and force, and about drifting for so long that the stars seemed to form the outline of words, if only she could focus her eyes the right way. One about a journey which lasted forever, yet took no time at all." He, like Kirk, had been picking sparingly at his food, but it seemed to be borne more from a sense of propriety than anything else.

"Not that I've ever been stuck in space like that, but it does sound very familiar." Kirk admitted slowly.

"I, also, observe parallels between my own experiences and those of your great-grandmother. As she served in Starfleet, there is a chance that I have heard of her. What is her name?" Spock asked thoughtfully.

"Karen Mohr."

Spock's eyes narrowed slightly. "Would she be the same Captain Mohr who initiated first-contact with the inhabitants of the planet designated Chiron Beta Prime?"

Gabriel smiled. "You have some experience with the planet, do you not?"

"Wait, wait, you're saying that she, your great-grandmother, was the one that…" he turned from Gabriel to lean closer to Spock and continued in a whisper, "…that Ludicrous Hat was talking about?"

Spock lowered his voice to mirror Kirk's, but the pitch was such that the entire table could easily hear. "Indeed, Captain."

Gabriel leaned forward with interest. "They mentioned her to you?" His face remained stoically blank, but his voice betrayed a hint of excitement.

"Yes, they did. Fascinatingly enough, they saw—" was that a quickly suppressed smirk on Spock's face? "—some similarities between Captains Mohr and Kirk. Tell me, did your great-grandmother mention her feelings about heights to you?"

Gabriel seemed puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand you."

"Was she afraid of heights?"

"Ah! No, she most certainly was not. Once, we went on a family trip to…I think it was a national park. My parents took my elder siblings rappelling, but I was too young and I was left, as usual, in the care of Nana. We waited at the top of the cliff as they went down and then hiked back up. I was terrified of the edge and wouldn't go near it. Nana, on the other hand, walked right up to it and spread her arms out to the sides. She said that she felt as though, if she stepped right off the edge, she would, ah, 'float like a little leaf, right down to the bottom,' or something along those lines. For some reason, that image has always stuck with me." Gabriel gazed at the wall behind Kirk's head, lost in reminiscence.

Spock waited a moment, then asked, "Did you ever talk with her, tell her that you believed her experiences to be more than bedtime stories?"

Gabriel shook his head ruefully. "I did not. She was very ill, her last couple years of life. By the time I was convinced that there was something to learn, moments of lucidity were rare. The doctors said it had something to do with exposure to exotic forms of cosmic radiation, but most of the family's convinced that it's just something they say when they don't know the cause." He shrugged.

"Could I ask," Kirk said slowly, "why you've been so…open with details from your life?" The entire time the man had been talking, Kirk had been curious about this. Gabriel's manner was very reserved, which felt at odds with the amount of personal information he had divulged. He'd slipped from 'great-grandmother' to 'Nana' quite easily, yet he didn't seem the type of person to allow that switch to happen unconsciously.

Gabriel smiled a bit. "It is, actually, due mostly to a suggestion made to me by dear Amanda. She is the only person to have heard all of our stories first-hand. She said that she saw certain parallels between out accounts, and she felt there might be more. Also, I see no reason to try to hide anything. I want answers and confirmation, just as much as you do, and so the last thing I wish to do is withhold details.

"So, just to be clear, you don't know any more about this thing than we do?" Kirk asked, the question which had been resounding through his head for most of the conversation finally given voice.

"I'm afraid that you both know more than I do." He confirmed.

"In all your research, you did not come across accounts of other beings to whom the phenomenon might have occurred?" Spock asked, the tone of his question indicating the conclusion he had already reached.

"I have not. Have either of you done any research on the subject?" Gabriel's tone was not reproachful. He sounded, at most, mildly and politely curious.

Kirk snorted. "Oh, just a bit. T'Ping's _Discourse on Time_, Groglackgr's _Theories on Time, and How it Might be Stopped_, even Halloway's tomb; _The Search for and Study of Tachyons, and How They Might be Utilized in the Mastery of Time._ We've read everything we've been able to get our hands on, from the improbably theoretical to the unhelpfully numeric. Granted, we've focused on the science of the thing which isn't that helpful because it's not like we can use any of the equipment while in Safe Mode, but—"

Gabriel sat up in interest at that, and when Kirk paused, he asked, "How do you mean? Why can't you use any equipment in…ehm, 'Safe Mode'?"

For a moment, Kirk was confused by the question. The answer was so simple; he couldn't imagine how someone could not know it. He glanced quickly at Amanda and Spock, but neither of them seemed inclined to field the question. He turned back to Gabriel. "Because it doesn't work." He answered simply, shrugging.

"How do you mean?" Gabriel's eyebrows were furrowed in puzzlement.

"Um, it…well, if something is on, it stays on. If it's off, it's off for good. And if something thinks or observes, it freezes along with the people, animals, and plants. I can read a book—a paper and ink book—because nothing is destroyed or created when I do that. Well, except in my brain, but when I'm the only thing moving it seems pretty clear that I'm an exception to the rule. Um. Sorry, I'm not sure of a better way to describe it."

"No, no, it's fine. It makes sense, as far as any of this makes sense. I simply hadn't thought it through."

A pocket of silence invaded the room. Kirk hadn't been sure what how he'd expected this meeting to go, but this certainly wasn't it. He almost felt disappointed. What use would some half-remembered bedtime stories do them? But at the same time he felt some stirrings of hope. He was pretty sure that Gabriel could be believed. The facts of Karen Mohr's Starfleet career could be independently verified and, quite honestly, what could there be for the man to gain through tricking them in this way? It had to be real, and that meant that there was a third point of data to be added to their search. Maybe they would be able to learn something, after all.

Spock spoke up, distracting Kirk from his thoughts. "Mr. Lindstedt, might I inquire as to what it is you do when you are not pursuing information on your great-grandmother?"

"Well," Gabriel said slowly. "I am not employed, in the traditional sense. You see, I am the youngest child of Albert Lindstedt and Evelyn Boyd Granville." From the look on confirmation on Spock's face, Kirk suspected that these names meant something to him.

As though sensing his confusion, Spock turned to Kirk and explained, "His mother comes from a family of diplomats and politicians. She is the sister of Charles Granville, the man who held the office of Prime Minister of Great Britain for a decade. Her cousin, Marie Krieger, serves on various coalitions both terrestrial and extraterrestrial, and her mother, Sophie Granville-Rhodes, was the Terran ambassador to Andor, a position she held for four decades until she retired to form the nonprofit organization HungerCure. I feel quite sure that there are many more family members which I am unaware of."

Gabriel nodded a bit, looking slightly amused and embarrassed. "You've hit the high points, though. My siblings are all much older than me, so by the time it came for me to make decisions about my future, my parents were already wrapped up in the education and careers of my siblings. I got a degree in political science and served as an aid to an ambassador or two, helped organize a few events" he said, waving his hand to indicate that the details were unimportant, "and, as it happens, I have been involved in the past few editions of Federation Star."

"Ah." Spock said quietly.

"Exactly." Gabriel nodded. "Everyone else was too harassed to bother wondering about how you both managed to get to the downtown district of the planet so _very_ quickly. And, well, I'm not sure I should tell you this, but some of the organizers were told to expect some sort of disappearing act from you, Captain."

Kirk tried to squawk indignantly, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It was Pike, wasn't it?"

"They did not tell me from whom the advice came."

"Hmph."

"You must admit, Captain, that the Admiral was correct in his projections." Spock pointed out, a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, well, I'd hate to disappoint the old man." Kirk laughed. He glanced at Gabriel to gauge his reaction and caught the other man staring at him. "What?" He asked, curious.

"You both have spent a significant amount of time together, in and out of 'Safe Mode,' correct?" Spock inclined his head in agreement. "I have received the impression, both from Amanda and my great-grandmother, that each instance of frozen time seems like an eternity." This time Kirk nodded, wondering where this was going.

"Do either of you ever become tired of the company of the other?"

"Um." Kirk winced. "Not really? I can't speak for Spock, but my biggest…_problem…_with Safe Mode is the aloneness. There're time when it feels like we've said everything we could ever possibly say, done everything there is to do, but the idea of simply getting up and walking away…that's never a serious alternative."

"I must agree." Spock intoned, nodding.

Gabriel stared into space again, pensive. He sighed, "I have spent more time that I would like to admit trying to imagine what it would be like, but I fear I will never truly know. From Nana's stories, I received the impression that these…freezes were not something she had any control over. Is it so with you, too?"

"Your impression is accurate." Spock confirmed. Gabriel sighed again, a disappointed smile twitching his lips. "However, I think there is more we can learn from each other. If you would consent to trading correspondence, I would like to investigate certain details further."

The great-grandson of Captain Karen Mohr nodded. "I was going to ask you the same thing, actually. Yes, I would like that very much."


End file.
